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V i r gl hi  a    T e r fr  u  n 
Van    de    Wat  e  r 


to  exchange 


In   the  Web   of  Life 


"WHEN  I  THINK  OP  WHAT  I  HAVE  LOST' 


In  the 
Web    of  Life 


by 

Virginia  Terhune  Van  de  Water 

Author  of     The   Two  Sisters" 


Illustrated 


1 


Hearst's  International   Library  Co. 

New  York 


Copyright,  1914,  by 
HEARST'S  INTERNATIONAL  LIBRARY  Co.,  INC. 


rights    reserved,    Including    tht    translation    Into    foreign 
languages,    including    tht    Scandinavian* 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAQB 

1 1 

II 10 

III 21 

IV 38 

V 55 

VI 71 

VII 94 

VIII. Ill 

IX 122 

X 134 

XI 151 

XII 168 

XIII 185 

XIV 202 

XV 219 

XVI 236 

XVII 248 

XVIII 266 

XIX 284 

XX 296 

XXI 313 

XXII 321 

XXIII.  328 


ILLUSTEATIOKS 

"When  I  think  of  what  I  have  lost"    .        .      Frontispiece 

FACING   PAGE 

Edith  found  her  a  safe  confidant        ....      20 

Tom  sat  silent  for  a  time  watching  the  yellow  bar  of 
sunlight  creep  up  his  office  wall  ....    166 

She  resembled  strangely  a  well-known  presentment  of 

Joan  of  Arc  by  an  Italian  sculptor      .        .        .    280 


In   the  Web   of  Life 


IN  THE  WEB  OF  LIFE 

Chapter  One 

The  two  men  faced  each  other.  One  was  tall 
and  rather  plain  of  feature ;  the  other,  his  jun- 
ior by  two  years,  was  shorter  and  handsome. 
Perhaps  the  smaller  man's  eyes  were  not  as 
steady  as  those  of  his  companion.  But  many 
women  prefer  dark  eyes  to  blue  ones — and 
Ealph  Morton  had  black  eyes.  His  tall,  plain 
cousin,  Tom  Morton,  was  less  popular  with 
women  than  was  he. 

"Tell  me  what  scrape  you  are  in,  Ralph," 
counseled  Tom.  "It's  better,  you  know,  to 
tell  me  the  whole  truth  if  there  is  any  way  in 
which  I  can  be  of  use  to  you." 

It  was  what  he  had  often  said  to  this  care- 
free cousin  when  they  had  been  boys  at  school, 
and  later  at  college,  when  he  was  a  junior  and 
Ralph  was  a  happy-go-lucky,  heedless  fresh- 
man. But  now  they  were  men — and  Ealph  Mor- 
ton was  again  in  trouble. 
I 


In  the  Web  of  Life 


He  told  his  story — excusing  himself  fre- 
quently as  he  went  along.  It  had  been  a  foolish 
mistake,  he  said — an  affair  in  which  he  had 
borrowed  a  little  money  he  happened  to  need 
from  a  woman — a  friend  of  his. 

Tom  started  with  a  smothered  exclamation, 
then  controlled  himself,  but  there  was  almost 
a  menace  in  the  voice  with  which  he  de- 
manded  

1  'You  borrowed  money  from  a  woman?'' 

Ralph  avoided  his  stern  gaze  as  he  hurried 
on.  There  was  nothing  so  bad  in  it,  after  all, 
he  averred.  He  and  the  woman — Mrs.  Evelyn 
Price — were  good  friends.  Surely  Tom  had 
heard  him  speak  of  her? — the  Prices,  he  might 
remember,  lived  in  Baltimore. 

Yes,  Tom  remembered.  "Go  on,"  he  said. 
"Please  stick  to  your  story." 

With  a  murmur  of  impatience,  Ealph  con- 
tinued. He  had  often  played  cards  with  Mrs. 
Price  and  had  often  spent  the  evening  at  her 
house.  She  was  rather  gay  and  very  jolly,  and 
not  a  bit  too  straight-laced  to  play  cards  her- 
self for  money — so  she  could  not  blame  any 
man  who  did  the  same. 

Her  husband,  by  the  way,  was  a  rich  chap — 


In  the  Web  of  Life 


but  a  mere  business  machine.  It  so  happened 
that  several  nights  ago  he  (Ralph)  had  been 
playing  with  some  men  in  Baltimore  and  had 
lost  a  lot  of  money.  It  was  not  exactly  his,  by 
the  way,  but  some  with  which  he  was  to  meet 
the  interest  on  a  mortgage  of  his  mother's.  In 
fact  she  had  sent  him  to  Baltimore  to  pay  it  on 
a  house  she  owned  there — a  house  that  had  been 
her  father's — and  to  see  about  having  some  re- 
pairs done  on  the  building  itself. 

He  had  not  expected  to  lose  at  poker  night  be- 
fore last.  But  he  had  lost.  His  mother  had 
written  the  man  to  whom  she  owed  this  money 
that  it  would  be  in  his  hands  yesterday. 

"So  you  see  I  had  to  have  it,"  Ralph  de- 
clared. "I  went  to  the  Prices  and  talked  the 
matter  over  with  Mrs.  Price.  Her  husband  was 
not  in.  His  wife  said  she  was  glad  he  wasn't, 
for  he  was  in  a  very  bad  humor.  Somehow 
lately  she  has  managed  to  get  in  wrong  with 
him.  She  suggested  that  I  let  her  lend  me  the 
money.  I  simply  had  to  have  it,  so  I  borrowed 
it.  That's  all." 

He  paused  awkwardly. 

"And  then?"  asked  Tom  Morton. 

"Why,  I  paid  the  interest  on  the  mortgage 


In  the  Web  of  Life 


on  mother's  property,  of  course,"  lie  said. 
From  his  manner  one  would  fancy  that  there 
was  positive  virtue  in  his  having  done  this. 

"And  then?"  Tom  said  again. 

"Oh,  d — n  it,  Tom,  you  make  it  infernally 
hard  for  a  fellow  to  tell  you  a  thing!"  Ralph 
exclaimed. 

"I  don't  mean  to,"  Tom  protested,  "only  if 
I  am  to  help  you,  as  you  have  asked  me  to  do, 
I  must  know  the  facts." 

"Oh,  I  suppose  so,"  the  other  assented,  still 
in  an  aggrieved  tone.  "Well,  the  long  and 
short  of  it  is  that  everything's  against  me.  In 
the  first  place,  here  at  7  o'clock  this  morning 
came  a  special  delivery  letter  from  mother,  ask- 
ing me  to  come  home  at  once.  She 's  not  feeling 
so  well,  she  said,  and  one  of  the  servants  got 
into  a  drunken  row  and  she 's  afraid  to  stay  out 
at  Homewood  alone,  and  a  lot  of  other  things. 
So  unless  I  would  have  her  suspect  that  some- 
thing's wrong  I've  got  to  go  out  there  to-night. 
That's  why  I  came  on  to  New  York  immediately 
— to  go  to  her,  buj^  first  to  see  you.  For — well, 
Tom — I've  got  to  pay  that  money  back. 

' '  It  seems  it  was  Price 's,  not  his  wife 's.  He 's 
a  jealous  old  fool,  and  he's  asked  his  wife  what 


In  the  Web  of  Life 


she  did  with  the  cash.  You  see,  it  was  the 
servants'  wages — and  he  had  handed  it  to  her 
to  pay  them  with.  One  of  the  maids,  or  the  but- 
ler, or  some  one,  asked  him  for  some  money 
yesterday — and  then  he  learned  that  this  par- 
ticular servant,  at  least,  had  not  been  paid  yet, 
and  he  raised  no  end  of  a  row. 

"His  wife  sent  for  me  in  all  kinds  of  a  scare. 
She 's  promised  her  husband  that  he  shall  have 
the  cash  to-morrow  morning.  She  made  him 
think  that  she  had  lent  it  to  her  sister.  Her 
sister's  going  on  from  Philadelphia  this  after- 
noon to  make  her  a  visit.  See  ?  And — well,  the 
money's  got  to  be  there  I" 

"I  see,"  said  Tom  Morton  slowly.  He  was 
sure  that  there  was  something  more  to  learn. 

1 '  You  say, ' '  he  questioned, ' '  that  Mrs.  Price 's 
husband  is  jealous.  Is  he  by  any  chance  jealous 
of  you,  Ralph?" 

Ralph  laughed  embarrassedly.  "Well,  yes,  I 
guess  he  is,"  he  acknowledged.  "You  see,  he's 
away  from  home  quite  a  bit,  and  he  doesn't 
know  me  well,  and  I've  been  about  with  his 
wife  a  good  deal,  and  he's  heard  of  it,  and  he's 
peeved,  and  if  he  thinks  that  she  lent  me  the 


In  the  Web  of  Life 


money — why — oh,    well,    you    know    how    it 

wiU  be!" 

1  'And  you  want  me  to  lend  you  the  money?" 
"Why,  yes — I  would  like  it,  Tom — if  you 

can » 

' '  Certainly ! "  the  other  cut  him  short.  ' '  But 
how  will  you  get  it  to  her  on  time?  You  see" 
— with  a  glance  at  the  clock — "it's  after  four 
now — and  you  say  the  money  must  be  in  her 
hands  to-morrow  forenoon." 

"I  thought  perhaps  you  could  get  away  just 
now  easier  than  I  could,"  the  younger  man 
hurried  on  to  explain.  "You  see,  there's 
mother  wanting  me  and " 

He  paused,  and  his  cousin  answered  quickly. 
"Yes,  yes,  I  see,"  he  assented.  He  had  always 
loved  Ralph.  There  was  little  that  he  would  not 
do  for  him.  From  childhood  the  older  cousin 
had  stood  between  the  younger  one  and  trouble. 
Ralph  was  a  lovable  fellow,  he  now  mused.  His 
father  had  died  when  he  was  a  mere  child,  and 
his  mother  had  depended  upon  him  for  com- 
panionship and  for  much  that  the  boy  did  not 
really  possess  in  the  way  of  understanding 
sympathy.  But  mothers'  eyes  are  blinded  by 
affection.  All  these  things  passed  through  Tom 


In  the  Web  of  Life 


Morton's  mind  as  he  paused  before  uttering  his 
next  sentence. 

"I  will  lend  you  the  money,  Ralph,"  he  said 
at  last.  "But  could  you  not  telegraph  it  on  to 
Mrs.  Price?" 

"Lord,  no!"  exclaimed  Ealph.  "Her  hus- 
band would,  perhaps,  learn  of  it — and  there 
would  be  a  row.  The  only  thing  would  be  for 
you  to  call  and  give  it  to  her  in  person — or  at 
least  hand  her  your  check,  which  she  could 
deposit  and  get  the  cash  from  the  bank.  You 
could  do  that,  Tom,  I'm  sure." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  other,  thoughtfully,  "I 
could  arrange  it,  of  course.  I  must  telephone 
out  to  Homewood  that  I  cannot  be  there  to- 
night. You  see ' ' — he  paused,  flushing  boyishly. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  Ealph  finished  his  unspoken 
thought;  "Edith's  expecting  you  to  dinner, 
isn't  she?  I'm  sorry  to  interfere  with  your 
scheme;  but  I'll  see  her,  old  chap,  as  soon  as  I 
get  there  and  trump  up  some  sort  of  a  story 
to  tell  her." 

He,  too,  flushed,  but  his  cousin  looked  at  him 
without  suspicion. 

"Thanks,"  he  said  gravely;  "but  I  will 
'phone  her  that  business  calls  me  out  of  town." 


8  In  the  Web  of  Life 

He  would  not  let  himself  remember  that 
Edith  had  promised  to  talk  to-night  with  him 
about  certain  plans  dear  to  both  of  them. 
Surely  she  would  understand.  Yet  only  last 
evening  she  had  reproached  him  with  being  so 
much  less  enthusiastic  than  his  younger  cousin, 
Ralph. 

"Ralph  is  always  so  intense  and  so  enthu- 
siastic about  everything,"  she  had  said  with  a 
little  laugh.  "It  would  be  a  delight  to  have 
such  a  man  as  that  make  love  to  one." 

The  words  had  been  spoken  in  jest,  but  they 
had  made  him  vaguely  uncomfortable. 

He  wished  that  Edith  would  not  say  such 
things — yet  did  they  not  prove  what  an  innocent 
child  she  was?  And  did  he  not  love  her  better 
than  all  the  world  beside?  Could  he  blame 
her  if  she  resented  his  absence  to-night?  And 
to-morrow  evening  her  mother  was  giving  a 
dinner  to  them  both — an  engagement  dinner  she 
called  it,  a  rather  elaborate  affair  in  her  pretty 
home  in  the  fashionable  suburb  where  she  and 
the  Mortons  made  their  home.  At  that  dinner 
Edith  Hale's  and  Tom  Morton's  betrothal  was 
to  be  announced. 

"I  only  thought,"  Ealph  was  saying — and 


In  the  Web  of  Life 


Tom  roused  himself  with  an  effort  from  his 
revery — "that  if  Edith  expected  you  to-night 
she  might  be  a  little  lonely  if  you  did  not  come. 
So  after  I  have  dined  with  mother  and  quieted 
her  nervousness  I  will  run  over  and  cheer  Edith 
up  a  bit — if  you  would  care  to  have  me  do  so. ' ' 

"Thanks,"  replied  Ralph,  "that  will  be  kind 
of  you. ' ' 

"If  she  has  other  callers,  I  can  talk  to  Con- 
stance, you  know,"  Ralph  added.  "Connie's  a 
good  sort — even  if  she  is  Edith's  poor  cousin 
and  such  a  sober  little  thing. ' ' 

1 '  She  is  a  fine  woman, ' '  returned  Tom.  And, 
remembering  her  presence,  he  felt  a  sudden 
sense  of  security.  Constance,  the  orphaned 
cousin,  who  made  her  home  with  Edith  Hale 
and  her  parents,  was  his  very  good  friend.  She 
would  calm  Edith's  doubts,  if  she  had  any, 
with  regard  to  his  absence.  But  of  course 
Edith  would  not  doubt  him.  Did  she  not  love 
him,  and  were  they  not  engaged  to  be  married? 


Chapter  Two 

Homewood  is  one  of  New  York's  most  beau- 
tiful suburbs.  It  calls  itself  a  suburb  of  the 
metropolis,  although  it  lies  on  the  New  Jersey 
side  of  the  Hudson  River. 

The  New  Yorker  motoring  through  Home- 
wood  finds  himself  wondering  why  he  is  ever 
willing  to  remain  in  the  noisy  city,  and  the  rider 
in  the  trolley  car  that  runs  near  the  residential 
district  sighs  with  longing  for  enough  money 
to  live  as  the  denizens  of  Homewood  live.  Here 
one  finds  large  and  handsome  houses,  green 
lawns,  great  shade  trees  and  all  the  comforts 
of  the  city  combined  with  the  beauties  of  the 
country. 

In  one  of  these  commodious  houses  lived  John 
Hale,  his  wife  and  daughter  and  his  wife's 
niece,  Constance  Medford.  A  few  blocks  away 
was  the  residence  of  Mrs.  James  Morton  and 
her  one  son,  Ealph.  Tom  Morton,  Ralph's  cou- 
sin, had  an  apartment  in  New  York,  but  was 
a  frequent  visitor  in  his  aunt's  home. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  many  visits  to  Home- 
10 


In  the  Web  of  Life  n 

wood  during  his  boyhood  that  he  had  met  and 
fallen  in  love  with  Edith  Hale.  She  had  been 
a  mere  slip  of  a  girl  at  that  time,  while  he  was 
too  young  to  think  of  marriage.  But  he  had 
waited  through  the  years  that  she  had  spent 
with  her  mother  in  Europe  ''finishing"  the 
education  that  had  been  begun  in  a  New  Eng- 
land boarding  school. 

The  four  years  in  Europe  had  been  in  lieu 
of  the  college  education  that  most  girls  receive. 
John  Hale  did  not  like  women's  colleges,  yet 
he  wanted  his  only  daughter  to  have  all  the 
advantages  his  wealth  could  procure  for  her. 
This  thought  had  reconciled  him  to  four  Win- 
ters without  his  wife  and  child,  Winters  which 
he  spent  in  a  hotel  in  the  city.  Each  Summer 
he  *  *  ran  across ' '  to  Europe  for  three  months  of 
vacation  from  business  and  of  travel  with  his 
family. 

Edith  Hale  had  been  back  at  home  but  six 
months  when  Thomas  Morton  asked  her  to 
marry  him.  She  kept  him  waiting  for  three 
months  before  she  gave  him  a  definite  answer. 
He  was  sure  that  his  fate  rested  entirely  with 
her,  for  blunt  John  Hale  had  granted  him  per- 
mission to  seek  Edith's  hand  when  Tom,  with 


12  In  the  Web  of  Life 

old-fashioned  ideas  of  what  was  right  and 
proper,  told  the  girl's  father  of  his  love  for 
her.  At  the  end  of  their  confidential  talk  to- 
gether John  Hale  laid  a  kindly  hand  on  Tom's 
shoulder. 

"My  boy,"  he  said,  his  eyes  suddenly  moist, 
"I  have  always  dreaded  parting  from  my  girl, 
but  if  she  must  marry,  and  I  suppose  girls  will 
do  it" — with  an  attempt  at  a  laugh — "I  would 
rather  that  it  should  be  you  than  any  one  else. ' ' 

"You  honor  me  very  highly,  sir,"  Tom  said, 
deeply  moved.  ' '  I  wish  I  were  more  worthy  the 
trust  you  have  in  me." 

"I  do  honor  you,"  the  elderly  man  said,  "for 
no  higher  honor  could  be  shown  any  man  than 
to  trust  him  with  the  happiness  of  such  a  girl 
as  Edith — my  only  girl,  too,  remember.  But 
I'm  glad  it's  you,  Tom,  and  I  don't  say  it  be- 
cause you  had  a  little  money  left  to  you  by 
your  father,  nor  because  you  are  making  a 
comfortable  living  from  your  business,  but  be- 
cause you  are  a  gentleman  by  birth  and  at  heart. 
I  used  to  be  afraid  that  Edith  might  take  a 
fancy  to  Ralph.  They  have  known  each  other 
since  they  were  children,  you  know,  although 


In  the  Web  of  Life  13 

his  absence  at  college  and  her  absence  in  Europe 
kept  them  apart  a  good  deal.  Yet  I  rather  sus- 
pected the  lad  was  in  love  with  her,  but  I  dis- 
couraged him  by  my  manner  as  much  as  pos- 
sible. I  would  never  approve  of  that  match. 

"Oh,  I  know" — as  Tom  uttered  a  protest — 
'  *  that  you  and  Ealph  are  cousins,  and  that  you 
are  fond  of  him,  and  all  that,  but,  Tom,  he  lacks 
stability.  He  has  no  definite  business,  though 
he  plays  at  the  law  a  little,  but  he  is  too  willing 
to  have  his  mother  support  him.  And  I  don't 
like  his  principles,  my  boy,  nor  his  views  of 
life." 

This  conversation  had  taken  place  some  weeks 
before  Tom  Morton  started  for  Baltimore  to 
pay  Ealph 's  debt  to  Mrs.  Price.  He  recalled 
it  as  he  telephoned  to  the  Hale  home  after 
Ealph  had  left  him.  Tom  Morton  and  Edith 
Hale  had  been  engaged  now  for  a  fortnight. 
It  was  Constance  Medford  who  answered  the 
telephone.  She  would  call  Edith  at  once,  she 
said.  But  he  checked  her  to  ask  a  question 
first. 

" Constance,"  he  said,  "Edith  is  well  and 
happy,  isn't  she?" 


14  In  the  Web  of  Life 

"Why  of  course  she  is!"  Constance  replied. 
"Why  shouldn't  she  be?" 

The  man  laughed  nervously.  "Oh,  I  don't 
know,  only  I  have  just  had  a  disappointment 
and  it  has  upset  me  a  little  perhaps.  I  find 
myself  called  out  of  town  on  business.  I  will 
tell  Edith  this  myself,  but  I  just  thought  I 
would  mention  it  to  you  now,  for  if  she  is  de- 
pressed or  disappointed  you  will  cheer  her  I 
know." 

"Of  course  I  will  try  to,"  the  girl  agreed 
reassuringly.  "Now  wait  while  I  call  Edith." 

A  minute  later  the  listener  at  the  New  York 
end  of  the  wire  heard  the  voice  of  the  girl  he 
loved. 

"Yes,"  said  the  voice,  "you  want  to  speak  to 
me,  Tom?  Aren't  you  coming  out  to  dinner?" 

"I  can't,  Edith,"  he  replied  guardedly,  mind- 
ful of  chance  listeners  on  the  wire.  "Business 
takes  me  out  of  town  to-night." 

1 '  Oh ! ' '  There  was  a  note  of  mingled  surprise 
and  regret  in  the  sweet  tones.  "Can't  you  put 
it  off?  Surely  what  you  and  I  were  going  to 
talk  about  is  more  important  than  any  old  busi- 
ness, isn't  it?" 

"To  us — yes  indeed  it  is,"  the  man  said  with 


In  the  Web  of  Life  15 

a  tender  laugh,  "but — I  simply  have  to  go  away, 
Edith.  I'll  be  back  in  plenty  of  time  for  the 
dinner  to-morrow  night,  you  know." 

"But  can't  you  put  off  the  business  that's 
taking  you  away  this  evening1?"  she  repeated. 

* '  I  can 't,  dear, ' '  he  regretted.  "  I  'm  fearfully 
sorry ! ' ' 

"So  am  I!"  she  returned  briefly.  "Good- 
bye!" 

Was  she  vexed  7  the  man  asked  himself  as  he 
hung  up  the  receiver.  He  would  write  her  a 
line  before  he  started  for  Baltimore,  and  to- 
morrow evening  they  would  be  together  at  the 
dinner  at  which  their  engagement  was  to  be 
announced.  And  at  this  thought  his  doubts 
vanished  and  the  cloud  passed  from  his  face. 

Edith  Hale  hung  up  the  receiver,  and  there 
was  a  distinct  frown  on  her  forehead.  It  was 
still  there  when  she  sought  her  cousin  Con- 
stance, where  she  sat  in  the  drawing-room, 
playing  softly  on  the  piano. 

Constance  Medford's  tact  was  not  of  the  ob- 
trusive kind,  but  it  seldom  failed  her.  It  was 
this  which  had  prompted  her,  after  summoning 
Edith  to  the  telephone  to  talk  with  Tom  Mor- 
ton, to  leave  the  talker  at  the  instrument  in  the 


16  In  the  Web  of  Life 

hall  and  take  herself  off  to  the  piano  where 
she  made  just  enough  music  to  prevent  her 
overhearing  a  conversation  that  was  not  meant 
for  her  ears,  and  to  prove  to  the  engaged  girl 
that  nothing  that  she  said  was  listened  to  by 
any  one  except  the  person  to  whom  she  was 
speaking. 

"I  declare  it's  too  bad!"  Edith  complained 
as  she  entered  the  room  in  which  her  cousin 
was  sitting,  and  at  the  sound  of  her  voice  Con- 
stance ceased  her  playing. 

"Tom's  not  coming  out  to  dinner  this  even- 
ing," Edith  continued.  "And  he  promised  me 
last  evening  that  he  would  be  here!  Yet  now 
he  lets  some  stupid  business  matter  interfere 
with  his  keeping  his  word ! ' ' 

' '  Of  course  it  must  be  something  that  he  can- 
not help,  dear,"  Constance  reminded  the  disap- 
pointed girl.  "You  must  know  that  he  would 
come  if  he  could." 

"Perhaps,"  shrugged  Edith.  Then  she 
laughed  at  her  own  impatience.  "I  am  silly,  I 
suppose,"  she  said,  "but  Tom  does  take  things 
in  such  a  matter-of-fact  way  that  he  exasperates 
me.  I  cannot  imagine  Ralph  Morton's  letting 


In  the  Web  of  Life  17 

anything  keep  him  away  from  the  girl  he  was 
engaged  to." 

Constance  raised  her  eyebrows  skeptically. 
1  'Nor  can  I  imagine  his  being  as  conscientious 
about  anything  as  Tom  is.  With  Ealph  I  al- 
ways think  that  if  duty  and  pleasure  conflicted, 
he  would  let  duty  go  by  the  board." 

"Well,  he  would  at  all  events  keep  his  word 
to  his  fiancee,"  Edith  pouted  again.  She  was 
annoyed  by  Tom's  change  of  plans  and  found  it 
difficult  to  regain  her  good  humor.  "Here  I 
have  a  whole  evening  without  any  company. 
But,"  with  a  sudden  smile,  "perhaps  Ealph 
will  run  over  for  a  while.  If  so,  I  shall  not 
miss  Tom,  for  Ealph  is  such  fun. ' ' 

Constance  looked  at  her  reproachfully.  "You 
do  not  mean  that,  dear, ' '  she  said  gently.  ' '  You 
will  miss  Tom  less  if  you  have  somebody  else 
here,  but  you  know  that  you  will  miss  him 
nevertheless,  and  that  Ealph  cannot  take  his 
place." 

"Well,  if  he  could,  he  would  fill  it  better  than 
Tom  does!"  Edith  retorted,  half  in  fun,  half 
in  vexation.  "But  come  along  and  play  some 
jolly  thing  for  me  and  chase  away  my  blues!" 

While  Constance  Medford  sat  at  the  piano 


In  the  Web  of  Life 


complying  with  Edith  Hale's  request,  her 
thoughts  were  busy.  She  had  been  living  in 
this  beautiful  home  since  the  death  of  her 
father  a  year  ago.  Her  mother  had  died  when 
she  was  a  child.  Now  the  girl  was  left  with 
very  little  money,  but  with  a  knowledge  of 
music  that  could  be  turned  to  profit.  Her  aunt 
and  uncle  had  insisted  upon  her  making  her 
home  with  them.  She  did  not  want  to  be  a  de- 
pendent, she  had  protested,  but  John.  Hale  and 
his  wife  had  tried  to  impress  upon  her  the  fact 
that  her  presence  in  their  house  was  a  joy  for 
which  they  would  gladly  have  paid  what  John 
Hale  called  ' '  a  good  round  sum. ' ' 

"You  are  an  unspeakable  comfort  to  us  all," 
her  aunt  had  declared.  "And  you  cost  us  noth- 
ing." 

Constance  had  accepted  the  home  but  had  lost 
no  time  in  securing  music  pupils  among  the 
children  of  the  prosperous  families  in  Home- 
wood,  and  she  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing 
that  though  she  was  not  allowed  to  pay  board 
she  was  able  to  buy  her  own  simple  clothing. 
She  hoped  that  she  might  soon  begin  to  lay 
aside  a  little  money  each  year  so  that  she  need 
never  be  a  burden  upon  her  kind  relatives. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  19 

She  could  not  help  knowing  that  they  all 
loved  her  and  that  she  had  proved  helpful  in 
many  ways  since  she  had  become  one  of  this 
household.  Edith  found  her  a  safe  confidant, 
and  enjoyed  her  companionship,  although  the 
two  girls  were  dissimilar  in  taste  and  charac- 
ter. Constance  was  fond  of  her  pretty,  brown- 
eyed  cousin,  and  was  always  ready  to  make 
excuses  for  her  sudden  wayward  impulses  and 
swift  changes  of  mood. 

This  afternoon,  however,  as  the  two  girls  sat 
in  the  gathering  dusk — one  playing  gay  little 
tunes,  while  the  other  listened,  beating  time 
with  the  tip  of  a  shapely  slipper — the  orphan 
found  herself  wishing  that  Edith  appreciated 
more  the  depths  of  feeling  of  which  Tom  Mor- 
ton was  capable.  Could  not  the  girl  see,  she 
wondered,  that  Ralph  was  attracted  to  her, 
and  that  he  was  showing  his  admiration  with 
little  thought  that  in  doing  so  he  was  not  quite 
honorable,  that  he  was  looking  with  longing 
eyes  upon  the  woman  who  had  just  become  en- 
gaged to  a  man  who  was  his  cousin  and  his 
friend? 

As  she  compared  the  two  men  in  her  thoughts, 
Constance  was  conscious  of  a  great  wave  of 


20  In  the  Web  of  Life 

sympathy  for  the  older  man,  of  an  understand- 
ing of  his  bigness  and  fineness  that  brought  a 
glow  to  her  heart.  Her  fingers  strayed  un- 
consciously from  the  little  tune  that  she  had 
been  playing  and  struck  some  minor  chords, 
then  wandered  into  a  wistful,  haunting  air  in 
consonance  with  her  musings. 

"Good  gracious,  Constance!"  Edith  ex- 
claimed, ' '  how  melancholy  that  sounds !  What 
are  you  playing?  I  asked  for  gay  music,  not 
for  a  dirge ! ' ' 

The  musician's  hands  crashed  upon  the  keys 
with  sudden  discord  as  she  started  violently 
at  her  companion's  ejaculation.  Then  she 
laughed  apologetically. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  honey!"  she  regretted. 
"My  thoughts  were  wandering  and  I  forgot 
that  you  had  insisted  upon  something  jolly. 
But" — glancing  at  the  little  French  clock  on 
the  mantel  shelf — "it  is  getting  late  and  we 
shall  have  to  hurry  if  we  would  change  our 
dresses  in  time  for  dinner." 

She  put  her  arm  about  Edith's  waist  and 
drew  her  toward  the  door.  She  was  glad  there 
was  no  time  just  now  for  further  discussion 
of  Tom  and  Ralph  Morton. 


EDITH  FOUND  HER  A  SAFE  CONFIDANT 


Chapter  Three 

"I  thought  Tom  was  to  be  here  to-night," 
Mr.  Hale  remarked  as  the  family  gathered 
about  the  dinner- table.  *  *  Why  didn  't  he  come  f ' ' 

"Oh,"  replied  his  daughter  with  a  vexed 
laugh,  "he  let  a  little  matter  of  business  keep 
him  away.  He  telephoned  to  me  an  hour  or 
two  ago  about  it." 

"I'm  sorry  not  to  have  the  boy  with  us,"  her 
father  said,  "but  I  do  like  the  conscientious 
spirit  he  shows  about  his  work. ' ' 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  Hale  agreed.  "He  does  not  let 
inclination  interfere  with  duty." 

Edith  was  silent.  From  her  face  one  could 
not  guess  her  thoughts. 

Dinner  was  almost  ended  when  there  was  a 
ring  at  the  front  door  bell,  and  a  moment  later 
a  servant  announced  *  *  Mr.  Ralph  Morton. ' ' 

"Let  him  come  right  in  and  have  a  cup  of 
coffee  with  us,"  Mrs.  Hale  ordered,  and  her 
daughter  supplemented  it  with  "Why,  yes;  of 
course!" 

The  most  prejudiced  observer  could  hardly 
21 


22  In  the  Web  of  Life 

deny  that  it  was  a  good-looking  man  who  en- 
tered. As  he  paused  in  the  doorway,  his  face 
lighted  by  a  smile  that  displayed  his  flashing 
teeth,  his  dark  eyes  glancing  from  one  to  the 
other  of  the  family  group,  Constance  acknowl- 
edged to  herself  that  Ralph  Morton  was  far 
better-looking  than  his  more  sober  cousin  and 
that  he  possessed  a  personal  magnetism  which 
would  be  hard  to  resist  were  he  to  consider  it 
worth  while  to  exert  it. 

This  evening  he  evidently  desired  to  make 
himself  agreeable,  and  he  bent  low  over  his 
hostess'  hand,  thanking  her  for  allowing  him 
to  come  in  "just  like  one  of  the  family,"  then 
he  shook  hands  heartily  with  his  host,  cordially 
with  Constance  and  almost  affectionately  with 
Edith.  His  voice  took  on  an  added  gentleness 
as  he  spoke  to  her,  half-familiarly,  half  teas- 
ingly. 

"I  did  not  need  an  excuse  to  bring  me  here 
this  evening, ' '  he  said  to  her, '  *  but  had  I  needed 
one  I  had  it  in  the  fact  that  I  am  the  bearer  of 
a  message  of  regret  from  Tom.  He  is  detained 
in  town  by  business." 

"He  telephoned  me  that  he  could  not  come," 
replied  the  girl,  looking  at  him  keenly.  "But 


In  the  Web  of  Life  23 

he  told  me  lie  had  been  called  out  of  the  city." 

Ralph  flushed  with  embarrassment.  Edith, 
noting  this,  wondered  just  why  Tom  Morton 
was  remaining  away  from  her.  Was  the  "out 
of  town"  excuse  a  false  one?  Constance  Med- 
ford,  seeing  Ralph's  discomfiture,  wondered 
with  sudden  suspicion  what  he  was  concealing. 
Why  should  he  have  said  that  Tom  was  stay- 
ing in  New  York  to-night,  when  Tom  himself 
had  said  otherwise  ?  And  Ralph  Morton,  feel- 
ing the  eyes  of  both  girls  focused  upon  him, 
laughed  awkwardly. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  "come  to  think  of  it,  he 
did  say  he  was  going  out  of  town.  I  forget 
just  where.  The  main  point  that  impressed  me 
was  that  he  could  not  be  here  and  that  he  was 
much  disappointed  that  he  could  not." 

"So  he  told  me  over  the  telephone,"  Edith 
remarked  dryly. 

"Never  mind,  darling,"  her  mother  soothed, 
hearing  the  sound  of  wounded  feeling  in  the 
girl's  voice.  "To-morrow  night  he  will  be  here 
for  your  engagement  dinner.  I  cannot  help 
thinking,"  she  went  on,  anxious  to  change  the 
current  of  her  daughter's  thoughts,  "how 


24  In  the  Web  of  Life 

much  surprised  our  neighbors  will  be  when  they 
hear  that  you  and  Tom  are  engaged." 

The  waitress  had  placed  the  coffee  on  the 
table  and  had  withdrawn,  so  the  mistress  felt 
that  she  could  speak  without  restraint. 

"For,  you  know,  Ralph,"  she  continued,  "you 
two  boys  have  been  here  so  much  with  my  two 
girls  that  I  do  not  believe  any  outsiders  know 
which  girl  is  engaged  to  which  boy,  or  if  there 
is  any  engagement  at  all." 

Ealph  laughed  and  looked  across  the  table 
at  Constance.  "Well,  I  declare,  Miss  Con- 
sance,"  he  said,  jestingly,  "it  has  never  oc- 
curred to  me  that  people  might  suspect  you 
and  me  of  having  a  tender  passion  for  each 
other !  Had  you  ever  thought  of  it  I " 

"Indeed  I  had  not!"  she  exclaimed  trying 
to  laugh  lightly.  She  felt  an  uneasy  doubt 
about  this  man.  Yet  she  chided  herself  for  it. 
He  was  a  decent  fellow,  though  he  was  con- 
ceited, and  she  was  probably  unjust  to  him. 

"Cheer  up,  dear  future  cousin,"  Ealph  ral- 
lied Edith.  "Don't  look  so  sad!  Only  twenty- 
four  hours  more  and  Tom  will  be  here!" 

"I  wasn't  even  thinking  of  Tom,"  she  de- 
clared. "I  was  just  thinking  that  it  is  per- 


In  the  Web  of  Life  2$ 

fectly  silly  of  you  and  Constance  to  call  each 
other  'Mr.'  and  'Miss/  You  know  each  other 
well  enough  to  say  'Ralph'  and  ' Constance.'  " 

"I  should  be  honored  to  do  so,"  replied 
Ealph  gallantly.  "How  about  you,  Miss  Con- 
stance f ' ' 

"I  will  call  you  just  what  Edith  wishes,"  Con- 
stance evaded. 

"It's  an  agreement!"  exclaimed  Edith,  as 
the  family  arose  from  the  table.  She  turned 
toward  Ralph  as  he  approached  her.  "Let's 
go  into  the  drawing  room, ' '  she  proposed, ' '  and 
make  Connie  play  for  us.  But  remember,  Con- 
nie— no  more  dirges!" 

"Why  not  have  a  waltz?"  suggested  Ealph. 

*  *  So  soon  after  dinner ! ' '  exclaimed  Mrs.  Hale. 
But  the  young  couple  paid  little  heed  to  her 
and  were  soon  gliding  in  time  to  a  dreamy 
waltz  tune.  At  last  Edith  looked  up  into  her 
companion's  face. 

"Why,"  she  murmured,  "didn't  Tom  come 
to-night?  I  have  a  feeling  that  there  is  some 
reason  for  his  absence  which  neither  you  nor 
he  has  told  me." 

"If  there  were,"  Ealph  said  softly,  peering 
down  into  her  flushed  face,  a  glow  of  admira- 


26  In  the  Web  of  Life 

tion  in  his  eyes,  "I  would  have  no  right  to  tell 
you.  You  are  his  property,  you  know.  I  am 
only  an  outsider."  He  laughed  bitterly.  "I 
have  no  right  to  give  any  inside  information — 
nor  to  say  what  I  think,  nor — worse  luck! — 
what  I  feel." 

Edith  attempted  to  smile,  but  again  suspicion 
seized  her.  And  coupled  with  it  was  a  vague 
wonder  if,  after  all,  she  could  ever  love  Tom 
as  dearly  as  she  had  thought  she  could  love 
him — as  dearly,  for  instance,  as  she  might  have 
loved  a  different  kind  of  man — a  man,  perhaps, 
who  loved  her  more  enthusiastically — a  man — 
with  a  sudden  blush  making  her  cheeks  hot — 
a  man  like  Ralph ! 

Ealph  Morton  lingered  long  at  the  Hales' 
that  evening.  He  and  Edith  soon  wearied  of 
dancing  and  allowed  Constance  to  cross  the  hall 
into  the  library,  which  was  her  favorite  resort 
and  where  her  uncle  and  aunt  were  seated — 
one  on  either  side  of  the  large  central  table — 
reading  by  the  soft  light  from  the  lamp  stand- 
ing there. 

The  pair  made  a  pretty  picture,  the  girl  ob- 
served as  she  entered  the  room.  What  a  beau- 
tiful thing  married  life  was  when  a  couple 


In  the  Web  of  Life  27 

grew  old  gracefully  together  and  when  their 
tastes  were  similar  and  their  mutual  love 
strong.  Yet  what  a  wretched  thing  marriage 
would  be  if  two  people  were  not  congenial ! 

As  she  thus  pondered  there  flashed  into  her 
mind  the  thought  of  Tom  Morton  and  his  strong 
character  and  of  Edith  and  her  excitable,  affec- 
tionate, yet  intolerant  nature.  Would  this 
couple  ever  be  the  happy  Darby  and  Joan  that 
Edith's  parents  were?  Marriage  was  a  serious 
thing — so  much  more  serious  than  young  peo- 
ple appreciated! 

She  seated  herself  with  a  little  sigh  in  a  chair 
near  the  reading-lamp  and  her  aunt  glanced  at 
her  with  an  affectionate  smile. 

"So  you  are  leaving  the  young  people  and 
coming  in  here  with  us  old  folks,  are  you?" 
she  asked. 

"Yes,"  Constance  smiled  back,  "they  are 
having  a  strenuous  discussion  on  the  last  new 
dance,  and,  you  know,  while  I  dance  some- 
times, I  do  not  care  much  about  it,  so  I  thought 
that  there  might  be  room  for  me  here." 

Her  uncle  leaned  over  to  pat  her  shoulder 
reassuringly.  ' '  You  ought  to  know  that  there  'a 


28  In  the  Web  of  Life 

always  room  for  you  where  your  aunt  and  I 
are,  dear  child, ' '  he  said. 

'  *  Thank  you,  sir, ' '  replied  the  girl  gratefully. 
How  good  these  dear  people  were  to  her  and 
how  much  she  loved  them !  Tears  of  gratitude 
came  to  her  eyes,  and  that  she  might  not  show 
them  she  took  up  a  book  that  she  had  this 
afternoon  left  on  the  table  and  began  to  read 
it.  So  absorbed  did  she  become  in  the  story 
that  she  soon  forgot  her  surroundings  and  the 
young  people  across  the  hall.  She  was  brought 
back  to  herself  with  a  start  by  her  uncle's 
voice. 

"I  declare,"  he  said  softly,  laying  down  the 
volume  he  had  been  reading,  "Ralph  is  staying 
very  late  this  evening." 

''Yes,"  agreed  his  wife,  looking  up  from  her 
magazine.  "I  wish  he  would  go  home  and  let 
Edith  get  to  bed.  She  looks  tired.  Moreover," 
stifling  a  yawn,  "I'm  a  little  sleepy  myself." 

"Go  to  bed,  then,"  suggested  Constance, 
"and  I  will  stay  down  here  reading  until  Ralph 
goes.  I  am  interested  in  my  book  anyway." 

Thus  urged,  the  two  elderly  people  went  to 
their  rooms,  stepping  lightly  that  the  caller  in 
the  drawing  room  might  not  suspect  that  they 


In  the  Web  of  Life  29 

felt  he  was  outstaying  their  patience.  For  an 
hour  longer  Constance  sat  reading.  Then  she 
heard  Edith's  voice,  and  there  was  a  weary 
sound  in  it. 

"I  think,  Kalph,"  she  was  saying,  "that  I 
ought  to  send  you  home.  I  am  sure  that  father 
and  mother  have  gone  upstairs — and  I  ought 
to  go  too." 

It  was  not  until  Ealph  replied  that  Constance 
appreciated  that  he  had  forgotten  her  proxi- 
mity or  that  he  did  not  suspect  any  one  was 
within  earshot. 

"I  know,  dear,"  he  said,  "but  there  are  so 
few  occasions  now  when  I  can  have  a  nice  long 
talk  with  you  alone,  such  as  we  have  had  to- 
night. And  the  times  are  getting  fewer." 

Edith  tried  to  laugh.  "Oh,  well,"  she  said, 
"I  hope  we  will  always  be  good  friends.  I 
don't  see  why  we  shouldn't." 

Yet  there  was  a  wistful  note  in  the  voice 
that  made  Constance  sorry  for  the  speaker. 
Was  she  unhappy?  Was  she  still  regretting 
Tom's  absence,  or  was  there  some  other  trouble 
on  her  heart?  Arising,  Constance  started  to- 
ward the  door,  but  as  she  reached  the  hall  she 
stopped  suddenly.  A  sentence  was  borne  to 


30  In  the  Web  of  Life 

her,  a  sentence  spoken  by  Ealph  Morton,  in  a 
low,  agitated  voice. 

"When  I  think,"  he  said,  "of  what  Tom  has 
won  and  I  have  lost,  I  feel  as  if  I  could  not 
bear  it" 

Constance's  heart  gave  a  glad  throb  as  she 
heard  the  girl's  reply,  although  it  was  uttered 
in  an  unsteady  tone. 

"You  have  no  right  to  talk  to  me  like  that, 
Ealph,"  Edith  began.  Then,  as  she  faltered, 
and  her  voice  broke,  the  unwilling  listener  in 
the  hall  rendered  further  speech  unnecessary  by 
hurrying  forward  and  making  her  presence 
known. 

"I  have  just  finished  my  book,"  she  an- 
nounced easily,  "so  I  thought  I  would  come 
in  here  and  see  how  you  young  people  are 
faring." 

Edith  turned  to  her  eagerly,  stretching  out 
her  hand  as  if  to  draw  her  cousin  to  her. 

"Oh,  Connie,"  she  said,  "I'm  so  glad  you 
came  just  in  time  to  keep  Ealph  and  me  from 
quarreling!  We've  been  boring  each  other  to 
death." 

"And  I  must  go  home,"  declared  the  man,  no 
sign  of  embarrassment  on  his  face.  But  Con- 


In  the  Web  of  Life  31 

stance  saw  that  he  held  Edith's  hand  longer 
than  usual,  and  she  noted,  also,  the  quiver  of 
the  girl's  lip  as  she  murmured  "good  night!" 

The  front  door  had  closed  behind  him  and 
the  two  cousins  were  on  their  way  upstairs  be- 
fore Edith  spoke  again. 

"I'm  tired  to  death,"  she  said  tremulously, 
* '  tired  of  almost  everything  and  everybody  ex- 
cept you,  Connie.  I  would  like  to  go  away 
where  I  need  not  see  anybody  for  a  while — 
except  just  you. ' ' 

Constance  drew  her  to  her  and  kissed  her. 
"You're  just  weary  to-night,  that's  all,  dear 
child,"  she  murmured.  "And  you  are  disap- 
pointed about  Tom's  not  coming.  Try  to  think 
of  how  good  he  is,  and  of  how  he  loves  you." 

To  her  surprise,  Edith  burst  into  tears.  * '  Oh, 
Connie,  Connie!"  she  murmured,  "I  sometimes 
think  that  it's  a  mistake  to  love  any  man!" 

' '  Oh  no  it  is  not,  dear, ' '  Constance  said  gent- 
ly, but  firmly.  "It's  not  a  mistake  for  you  to 
love  Tom." 

But  Tom's  fiancee  made  no  reply. 

"Colors  seen  by  candle  light  differ  with  the 
morning,"  runs  the  line  of  an  old  poem.  Cer- 
tainly to  persons  of  impressionable  or  mer- 


32  In  the  Web  of  Life 

curial  temperament  affairs  that  seemed  gloomy 
at  night,  when  one  was  weary,  assume  a  differ- 
ent aspect  on  a  bright  morning  after  a  good 
night's  sleep. 

So  to  Edith  Hale — awakening  from  a  night 
of  slumber  undisturbed  by  thoughts  of  Tom's 
failure  to  keep  his  appointment  with  her — life 
was  not  the  same  kind  of  problem  that  it  had 
been  last  evening.  It  has  been  asserted  that 
we  are  more  sane  in  the  morning  than  at  night. 
Certainly  Edith  Hale  was  her  better,  normal 
self  on  this  Spring  morning. 

She  dressed  rapidly,  with  an  appreciation  of 
the  beauty  of  the  sunlight,  of  the  budding  trees, 
of  life  in  general.  She  flung  wide  her  windows 
when  her  toilet  was  completed,  and,  leaning 
out,  drew  in  great  breaths  of  the  fresh  air. 
The  trees  in  the  orchard  beyond  her  window 
had  put  out  little  buds  that  were  swelling  almost 
into  bloom;  there  was  a  soft  green  haze  over 
the  distant  hills ;  it  was  Spring ;  she  was  young ; 
Tom  loved  her,  and — yes!  she  was  sure  this 
morning  that  she  loved  him! 

A  knock  at  her  door  made  her  turn  and  call 
"Come  in!"  She  smiled  gladly  as  Constance 
entered,  ready  for  breakfast. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  33 

"Good  morning!"  Edith  greeted  her  cheer- 
fully. "Isn't  this  a  lovely  day — and,  Connie, 
wasn't  I  a  little  goose  to  be  as  blue  as  I  was 
last  night?  To-day  everything  seems  dif- 
ferent." 

"Of  course  it  does!"  Constance  agreed  cor- 
dially. "I  knew  you  were  only  tired  and  dis- 
appointed last  night." 

"Such  a  wise  girl  as  you  are!"  Edith  ex- 
claimed, kissing  her  rapturously.  "I  suppose 
I  was  wrong  to  feel  hurt  at  Tom's  absence. 
I  did  just  the  same — but  I  don't  now." 

"Then  forget  that  you  ever  did,"  Constance 
advised.  "We  are  all  moody  sometimes  and 
cannot  really  help  it.  Now  let's  go  down  to 
breakfast.  Aunt  will  be  wondering  where  we 
are." 

An  envelope  lay  at  Edith's  place  at  the  table 
and  she  tore  it  open  eagerly,  for  it  was  ad- 
dressed in  Tom's  handwriting.  It  was  the  note 
he  had  written  hastily  yesterday  afternoon 
after  his  telephone  message  to  her. 

"This  letter  may  seem  unnecessary  to  you, 
darling, ' '  he  wrote,  "but  I  cannot  go  away  with- 
out sending  you  just  a  line  to  tell  you  once 
more  how  sadly  disappointed  I  am  not  to  be 


34  In  the  Web  of  Life 

with  you  this  evening.  I  am  trying  to  console 
myself  with  the  thought  that  to-morrow  night, 
come  what  may,  we  will  be  together  at  the  din- 
ner at  which  we  are  to  let  our  friends  know 
that  I  am  the  most  fortunate  man  in  the  world. 
When  I  think  of  what  it  all  means,  Edith,  I 
can  hardly  believe  that  to  such  an  unworthy 
person  as  myself  this  wonderful  gift  has  come. 
"I  know  you  love  me  enough  to  be  disap- 
pointed by  my  not  being  with  you  this  evening, 
but  by  the  time  this  reaches  you  the  evening 
without  me  will  be  over  and  you  will  remember 
that  nothing  short  of  a  catastrophe  can  keep 
me  away  to-morrow  night.  I  believe  the  din- 
ner is  to  be  at  seven-thirty.  I  shall  try  to  get 
out  to  Homewood  and  to  you  by  seven  o'clock." 

Edith  Hale  read  and  re-read  the  letter,  her 
color  deepening  and  her  heart  full  of  affection 
for  this  man  who  loved  her  so  much.  How 
could  she  have  thought  such  horrid  things  about 
him  last  night?  Even  if  he  was  not  as  hand- 
some and  as  enthusiastic  as  Ealph,  he  was  so 
good  and  so  faithful  and  trustful  that  any  girl 
might  be  proud  to  win  his  love. 

"You  look  mighty  bright  and  happy  this 
morning,  honey,"  her  mother  observed  affec- 
tionately. 

"lam  happy,"  the  girl  rejoined  with  a  smile. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  35 

"Why  shouldn't  I  be?  The  day  is  perfect,  we 
are  all  together  and  well,  and " 

She  paused,  blushing,  and  her  father  laugh- 
ingly supplied  the  rest  of  her  sentence — "And 
Tom's  coming  this  evening!" 

"Yes,"  she  affirmed,  "that  is  one  reason 
why  I  am  so  happy." 

Then  the  talk  turned  to  the  prospective  din- 
ner party,  at  which  there  were  to  be  eight 
couples. 

"Tom  will  take  you  in  to  dinner,  won't  he, 
mother  1 ' '  asked  Edith.  « '  I  think  it  would  look 
well  to  have  him  do, so,  don't  you?" 

"Can  you  spare  him  to  me  for  so  long  a 
time  as  that?"  laughed  her  mother.  "I  shall 
feel  like  a  wretch,  depriving  you  of  him." 

But  Edith  insisted  that,  under  the  circum- 
stances, she  would  prefer  this  arrangement. 

"The  news  of  our  engagement  will  not  be 
announced  until  the  close  of  dinner,  you  know, ' ' 
she  said,  * '  and  it  will  be  easier  for  me  if  I  have 
a  comparative  stranger  to  talk  to  until  then." 

"What  about  Ealph?"  her  father  queried. 
"He  will  want  to  sit  by  you,  of  course." 

He  looked  at  his  daughter  as  he  made  this 


36  In  the  Web  of  Life 

query.  He  had  known  for  some  time  that  Ealph 
was  in  love  with  Edith,  and  wondered  if  she 
knew  it  too.  He  was  glad  when  she  shook  her 
head  decidedly. 

"No!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  don't  want  Ealph 
with  me.  Let  him  take  Connie  in  to  dinner. 
Would  you  like  to  have  Ealph  by  you,  dear?" 
— looking  across  at  Constance. 

"I  don't  care  who  sits  by  me,"  Constance  re- 
plied unconcernedly,  * '  so  long  as  the  affair  goes 
off  all  right.  The  conversation  will  be  general 
most  of  the  time,  anyway — and  Ealph  Morton 
is  jolly  and  good  fun  to  talk  to.  So  arrange 
the  table  to  suit  yourself,  Edith,  dear.  It's 
your  party,  remember,  and  I  do  think  that  upon 
this  occasion  you  might  have  matters  just  as 
you  want  them.  Of  course,  put  Ealph  by  me. 
If  he  doesn't  mind,— I  don't!" 

She  did  not  add  what  was  in  her  mind, — 
namely,  that  she  did  not  care  who  sat  by  her 
so  long  as  Ealph  did  not  sit  by  Edith. 

'  *  Somehow, ' '  she  said  to  herself  later  as  she 
arranged  the  flowers  in  the  various  rooms  in 
preparation  for  the  evening's  festivities,  "I 
do  not  feel  at  all  confident  of  Ealph  Morton's 


In   the  Web   of  Life  37 

honorable  intentions  nowadays.  I  hope  that  I 
am  mistaken  in  my  judgment  of  him.  If  so,  I 
shall  be  only  too  happy  to  acknowledge  that  I 
have  done  him  an  injustice!" 


Chapter  Four 

"Mrs.  Price  is  not  at  home,  sir." 

The  maid  who  opened  the  door  for  Tom  Mor- 
ton said  the  words  politely,  but  with  a  look  of 
ill-concealed  curiosity.  The  man  who  had  rung 
the  bell  was  aware  that  this  was  an  uncon- 
ventionally early  hour  for  a  social  call,  and 
understood  the  maid's  interrogative  expression 
of  countenance. 

"Not  at  home?"  he  repeated.  "I  am  sorry. 
I  want  to  see  her  on  an  important  matter  of 
business." 

He  was  wondering  if  the  girl's  answer  to  his 
question  had  not  been  the  one  uttered  by  the 
servants  of  society  women  who  wish  to  indicate 
that  they  are  not  caring  to  receive  callers.  He 
did  not  like  to  seem  too  persevering,  but  if  he 
would  be  at  Homewood  to-night  by  7  o'clock 
he  must  take  an  early  afternoon  train  from 
Baltimore.  So  he  put  another  question  to  the 
maid : 

"Can  you  tell  me  when  Mrs.  Price  will  be  in? 
Would  I  be  likely  to  find  her  later  in  the  morn- 
ing?" 

38 


In  the  Web  of  Life  39 

"I  don't  know,  sir.  Her  sister's  visiting  her, 
and  the  two  of  them's  gone  out  somewhere  for 
the  morning,  and  maybe  for  luncheon.  Couldn't 
you  leave  your  message  with  me!  I'll  give  it 
to  Mrs.  Price  as  soon  as  she  comes  in." 

"I'm  afraid  not,"  the  man  regretted.  He 
could  not  give  this  girl  his  name  lest  her  mis- 
tress' husband  should  hear  of  it  and  suspect 
that  Kalph  had  been  communicating  with  her. 
Ealph  had  warned  him  especially  against  doing 
anything  that  would  arouse  the  jealous  hus- 
band's suspicions.  Then  a  happy  thought 
struck  him. 

"If" — he  hesitated — "you  can  give  me  an 
envelope,  I  will  write  a  line  on  my  card  and 
leave  it  for  Mrs.  Price." 

While  the  maid  hurried  off  to  fulfill  his  re- 
quest Tom  drew  his  visiting  card  from  his 
pocket  and  wrote  on  it  the  name  of  the  hotel 
at  which  he  was  stopping.  He  would  enclose  it 
in  an  envelope  and  seal  this.  He  disliked  to  do 
it,  yet  what  other  course  could  he  pursue  f  Mrs. 
Price  might  understand  what  his  errand  was 
and  call  him  up  upon  her  return. 

"You  think  Mrs.  Price  will  be  back  soon  after 


40  In  the  Web  of  Life 

luncheon,  don't  you?"  he  asked  when  the  maid 
returned  with  the  envelope. 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,  sir,"  answered  the 
girl.  There  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  ques- 
tioning her  and  he  handed  her  his  enclosed  card 
with  a  brief — "Please  see  that  she  gets  this  as 
soon  as  possible.'" 

He  had  a  long  morning  ahead  of  him  and  he 
was  at  a  loss  as  to  what  to  do  with  it.  It  was 
a  perfect  day,  and  Baltimore  in  Springtime 
would  delight  the  heart  of  any  lover  of  that 
beautiful  city.  Nothing  would  have  pleased 
Tom  Morton  more  than  to  walk  here  to-day 
with  Edith  Hale;  but  he  was  too  anxious  to 
get  back  to  her  to  be  allured  by  the  prospect 
of  a  solitary  promenade.  Moreover,  Mrs.  Price 
might  return  and  call  him  up  at  the  hotel  during 
his  absence. 

So,  after  an  hour's  stroll,  during  which  he 
paused  for  a  moment  at  the  grave  of  Edgar 
Allan  Poe  to  think  of  his  tragically  sad  life, 
he  returned  to  the  Hotel  Belvedere  and  asked 
anxiously  at  the  office  if  any  message  had 
come  for  him.  The  polite  clerk  answered  in 
the  negative  with  a  regretful  manner  that  some- 
how comforted  the  stranger. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  41 

Buying  several  papers  and  magazines,  Tom 
went  into  the  reading-room  and  tried  to  forget 
his  uneasiness,  although  he  found  it  hard  to 
fix  his  mind  upon  the  daily  news  or  the  short 
stories  and  special  articles  which  he  attempted 
to  peruse. 

But  the  longest  morning  will  wear  itself  away 
at  last.  It  was  almost  1  o'clock  when  he  went 
into  the  corridor,  where  the  telephone  booths 
were  located,  and  looked  up  in  the  directory 
the  number  of  Mrs.  Price's  house.  A  servant's 
voice  answered  his  call. 

"No,  sir,  Mrs.  Price  isn't  home  yet,"  she  re- 
plied to  his  query.  "But  she's  telephoned  that 
she'll  be  in  about  2  o'clock." 

Two  o  'clock !  Could  he  deliver  the  money  to 
her  and  yet  catch  a  train  to  New  York  that 
would  get  him  out  to  Homewood  before  it  was 
too  late  I  He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  the 
thought  of  Edith  made  him  take  a  chance. 

"I  left  a  card  with  you  this  morning,  you 
remember?"  he  said. 

He  thought  he  had  recognized  the  voice  of  the 
girl  whom  he  had  seen  earlier  in  the  day. 

"Yes,  sir,  you  did,"  she  replied. 

"As  soon  as  Mrs.  Price  returns  give  her 


42  In  the  Web  of  Life 

that  card  and  ask  her  to  call  me  up  immediately. 
Understand?" 

"Yes,  sir — or" — with  a  little  catch  in  her 
voice,  "Mr.  Price  may  be  home  before  her.  Will 
I  give  him  the  message?" 

"No,  don't  bother  him  about  it,"  Morton 
returned  quickly.  Price  might  be  at  home !  If 
so,  how  could  Morton  see  Mrs.  Price  without 
running  the  chance  of  meeting  her  husband? 
The  New  Yorker  hung  up  the  receiver  with  an 
impatient  exclamation.  He  hated  intrigue — 
despised  it  with  all  the  disgust  of  a  clean, 
straightforward,  honest  man.  To  think  that 
he  should  be  involved  in  such  a  mess  as  this ! 

Eepairing  to  the  dining  room,  he  tried  to  eat 
some  luncheon,  but  even  the  Maryland  fried 
chicken  failed  to  tempt  him.  Again  and  again 
he  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  2  o  'clock  when  a 
page  came  through  the  rooms  calling  his  name, 
and  he  responded  eagerly. 

"Someone  for  you  on  the  phone,"  the  boy 
said. 

It  was  a  woman's  voice  that  replied  to  his 
"Hello!"  and  the  voice  was  so  unsteady  that 
Tom  knew  the  speaker  was  agitated. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  43 

1  'You  are  Mr.  Morton— Balph's  brother?" 
she  asked. 

"I  am  Balph's  cousin,"  Tom  said  briefly.  "I 
have  something  here  which  he  asked  me  to  de- 
liver to  you." 

« Oh— thank  Heaven!"  she  breathed.  "Do 
not  bring  it  until  after  3  o'clock,  no  earlier," 
she  added  hastily  in  a  low  tone.  "Be  sure  not 
to  come  until  then.  Bring  it  yourself.  Don't 
trust  it  to  anyone  else — for  the  servants  and 
messengers  may  be  watched.  But  by  quarter 
past  three  I  will  be  alone.  Good-bye ! ' ' 

Quarter  past  three!  Then,  no  matter  how 
much  he  hurried,  he  could  not  catch  a  train 
that  would  get  him  into  New  York  before  8 
o  'clock ! 

It  was  exactly  three-fifteen  when,  for  the 
second  time  that  day,  Tom  Morton  found  him- 
self at  Mrs.  Price's  house.  On  this  visit  he  was 
admitted  to  the  drawing  room,  where  he  waited 
impatiently  while  the  maid  took  his  name 
upstairs.  He  did  not  sit  down,  but  walked  ner- 
vously up  and  down  the  long  room,  watching 
the  hands  of  the  elaborate  ormolu  clock  on  the 
mantel  shelf.  The  room  was  furnished  rather 


44  In  the  Web  of  Life 

flashily  with  much  blue  velvet  and  gilt  filigree 
work. 

The  mistress  of  the  house,  coming  downstairs 
after  having  kept  her  caller  in  suspense  for 
fifteen  minutes,  seemed  to  match  the  furnish- 
ings. Tom  observed  this,  and,  with  his  sub- 
jective mind,  wondered  as  she  greeted  him  if  she 
had  lingered  in  her  room  to  put  an  additional 
touch  of  rouge  to  her  cheeks  and  to  apply  the 
powder  puff  to  her  nose.  Both  applications 
were  evidently  recent. 

The  woman's  manner  was  agitated,  almost 
furtive,  and  she  spoke  rapidly. 

"You  come  from  Ralph  Morton?"  she  inter- 
rogated. 

"Yes,"  replied  Tom,  drawing  from  his  pocket 
the  envelope  containing  the  amount  of  Balph's 
debt. 

To  his  inward  amusement,  Mrs.  Price  took 
the  bills  from  the  envelope  and  counted  them 
carefully. 

"That's  all  right,"  she  said  in  a  relieved 
voice.  "This  matter  has  upset  me  dreadfully. 
Of  course  I  would  do  anything  I  could  to  help 
Ealph,  for  he  and  I  are  very  dear  friends,  but" 
— with  a  slight  hesitation — "well,  to  tell  the 


In  the  Web  of  Life  45 

truth,  my  husband  is  very  unreasonable,  and  he 
has  asked  me  again  and  again  about  that 
money,  and  I  assured  him  that  it  was  all  right 
— that.  I  had  lent  it  to  my  sister  and  that  he 
should  have  it  to-day.  I  was  out  when  he 
came  in  at  noontime,  and  he  was  still  here 
when  I  got  home.  He  said  he  had  an  engage- 
ment at  three  o'clock,  but  would  not  be  gone 
long.  So  this  is  the  only  time  I  could  see  you. 
I  just  had  to  have  the  money  before  he  gets 
back,  for  he  is  very  cross  about  it." 

"I  see,"  said  Tom.  He  found  himself  in- 
tensely embarrassed  in  the  presence  of  this  wife 
who  spoke  so  frankly  of  her  husband.  HOW 
could  Ealph  have  become  intimate  with  a 
woman  of  this  type — older  than  he  and  so  arti- 
ficial in  appearance?  Yet  Tom  Morton's  man- 
ner gave  no  evidence  of  what  was  passing  in 
his  mind  as  he  bowed  gravely  in  bidding  his 
hostess  good  afternoon. 

"I  have  a  train  to  catch,"  he  explained 
tersely. 

He  had  sent  a  telegram  to  Edith  before  leav- 
ing his  hotel,  telling  her  that  he  had  been  de- 
tained and  could  not  get  out  to  Homewood  until 
nearly  10  o  'clock.  He  did  not  let  himself  think 


46  In  the  Web  of  Life 

what  this  news  would  mean  to  the  girl  he  loved 
— what  it  meant  to  him.  Yet  if  he  could  reach 
the  Hale  home  after  the  late  dinner,  while  the 
guests  were  still  assembled,  the  announcement 
of  the  engagement  could  be  deferred  until  then. 
He  would  explain  to  Edith  that  the  business 
which  had  taken  him  to  Baltimore  had  detained 
him  unavoidably.  She  would  know,  without  his 
telling  her,  what  a  disappointment  this  turn 
of  affairs  had  been  to  him.  He  stifled  the  sud- 
den fear  that  perhaps  she  might  not  under- 
stand. Of  course  she  would !  Did  she  not  love 
him?  But  he  must  catch  the  four  o'clock  train. 
Mrs.  Price  had  kept  him  waiting  so  long  that 
he  would  have  to  hurry  to  make  up  the  time 
that  she  had  lost  him.  He  started  for  the  door. 

' ' Wait!"  she  exclaimed  suddenly,  drawing 
the  portieres  hastily  together. 

There  was  a  sound  of  a  latch-key  in  the  front 
door,  and  Tom  saw  the  woman  grow  pale  under 
her  rouge.  She  looked  at  him  beseechingly  and 
put  her  finger  on  her  lips  to  signal  him  to 
silence. 

As  the  pair  stood  thus  Tom  Morton  heard  the 
front  door  open,  then  close,  and  someone  walked 
heavily  through  the  hall  toward  the  staircase. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  47 

"It  is  my  husband,"  Evelyn  Price  whispered, 
as  the  footsteps  were  heard  mounting  the  stairs. 
"Wait  until  he  is  out  of  sight  of  the  front  door. 
If  he  saw  you  he  might  think  you  were  Ealph 
and  he  would  be  furious." 

"But,"  Tom  demurred,  "he  knows  Ealph, 
doesn't  he 3" 

"No,"  she  shook  her  head  hastily.  "He 
has  never  met  Ralph,  but  he  has  heard  some 

silly  gossip  about  his  taking  me  about  a  lot, 

and  he's  jealous." 

So,  added  to  all  the  other  disagreeable  com- 
plications, here  was  a  possibility  of  Tom  Mor- 
ton's being  mistaken  for  his  cousin  by  a  jeal- 
ous husband!  Anxious  to  shake  off  the  hate- 
ful atmosphere  of  deception  and  intrigue  in 
which  he  found  himself,  he  started  toward  the 
door. 

"I  must  go!"  he  exclaimed. 

But  Evelyn  Price  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm 
and  detained  him  a  moment  longer,  until  she 
heard  the  footsteps  of  the  husband  in  the  room 
above. 

"Now!"  she  exclaimed  in  a  low  voice,  "It's 
safe.  Go!" 

She  almost  pushed  him  into  the  hall,  though 


48  In  the  Web  of  Life 

he  needed  no  second  bidding.  He  noticed  as 
he  ran  down  the  front  steps  that  she  closed 
the  door  behind  him  noiselessly.  He  won- 
dered, with  a  ridiculous  feeling  of  guilt,  if  by 
any  chance  the  jealous  man  of  the  house  was 
watching  from  an  upper  window  his  hasty  de- 
parture and  deducting  his  own  conclusions 
therefrom.  For  might  he  not  suppose  that  this 
was  Ralph  Morton,  the  man  of  whom  he  felt 
he  had  just  cause  to  be  jealous?  Why  had 
Ealph  given  him,  Tom,  the  impression  that  he 
knew  the  husband  of  the  woman  whose  name 
had  been  linked  with  his  ? 

Then,  glancing  at  his  watch,  all  other 
thoughts  were  submerged  in  a  recognition  of 
the  lateness  of  the  hour.  Hailing  a  passing 
cab,  he  sprang  into  it,  and  bade  the  driver 
make  his  best  time  to  the  station,  promising 
him  a  generous  "tip"  if  he  got  there  before  the 
train  for  New  York  left. 

The  driver  did  his  best,  but  as  Tom  Morton 
out  of  breath  and  panting  with  excitement, 
rushed  into  the  station,  the  last  car  of  the  train 
he  had  planned  to  take  to  New  York  glided 
past  the  north  end  of  the  platform. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  love  that  a  man  may 


In  the  Web  of  Life  49 

feel  for  his  betrothed.  One  kind  has  in  its 
very  nature  a  calm  certainty  of  complete  trust 
on  the  part  of  the  woman.  The  man  knows 
that  she  has  absolute  faith  in  him  and  that  no 
chance  circumstances  can  shatter  that  faith. 
She  would  have  to  be  convinced  by  her  own 
sight  of  his  indifference  or  infidelity  before  she 
would  doubt  him.  The  other  kind  of  love — and 
this  is  perhaps  the  more  common — is  accom- 
panied by  a  hope  that  the  woman  will  under- 
stand, a  wish  that  she  may  believe  in  her 
sweetheart — but  there  is  always  the  tormenting 
possibility  that  if  circumstantial  evidence  were 
against  him  she  might  waver  in  her  trust. 

Tom  Morton  would  have  denied  even  to  him- 
self that  his  love  was  of  the  second  kind  de- 
scribed. But  the  fact  that  he  found  it  necessary 
to  assure  himself  over  and  over — "Of  course 
Edith  will  not  be  angry,  though  she  will  be  dis- 
appointed," or  "The  dear  girl  will  trust  me, 
even  though  I  cannot  be  with  her  to-night," 
was  proof  that  he  was  not  entirely  sure  of  his 
betrothed 's  confidence  in  him. 

For  some  minutes  after  the  four  o'clock  train 
had  pulled  out  of  the  Baltimore  station  the 
man  stood  lost  in  deep  thought.  Then  he  went 


50  In  the  Web  of  Life 

to  the  ticket  office  and  asked  several  questions. 
The  next  train  for  New  York  would  not  leave 
for  an  hour.  It  was  the  Congressional  Lim- 
ited, but  it  would  not  get  him  into  the  city  until 
after  9  o'clock. 

No  matter  how  much  he  hurried  he  could  not 
go  to  his  apartment,  change  to  evening  clothes 
and  get  out  to  Homewood  until  after  the  dinner 
guests  had  departed.  His  hope  had  been  that 
he  might  make  the  4  o'clock  train  and  reach  his 
own  apartment  by  8 :30,  dress  quickly  and  catch 
the  9:30  train  to  Homewood,  arriving  at  his 
fiancee's  house  very  close  to  10  o'clock.  Now 
that  was  impossible.  There  was  no  help  for 
it.  He  could  not  see  Edith  to-night.  And  this 
was  the  evening  on  which  their  engagement 
was  to  have  been  announced !  Yet,  surely  she 
would  understand. 

After  a  while  he  went  out  of  the  station  and 
paced  up  and  down  the  platform,  thinking  out 
his  problem.  What  right  had  Ralph  to  exact 
such  a  sacrifice  of  any  friend?  Why  had  he 
not  done  his  own  mean  work?  Then  Tom  re- 
membered his  aunt — Ralph's  mother — an  in- 
valid, the  victim  of  confirmed  heart  disease, 
who  would  have  been  distressed  and  anxious 


In  the  Web  of  Life  51 

had  her  boy  not  gone  to  her  when  she  summoned 
him.  Perhaps  his  failure  to  obey  her  request 
might  have  brought  on  a  serious  attack  of  ill- 
ness. Ealph  was  right  to  hurry  home  when  she 
asked  him  to.  Under  existing  conditions  what 
else  was  there  for  an  only  son  to  do  I  Tom  tried 
to  put  from  his  mind  the  temptation  to  remem- 
ber that  Ealph  could  have  come  on  to  Baltimore 
by  an  early  train  this  morning,  or  that,  after  all, 
if  he  had  done  as  his  mother  had  asked  him  to 
do  in  the  first  place  with  her  money  instead  of 
gambling  it,  all  this  trouble  might  have  been 
avoided. 

"We  are  none  of  us  perfect,  and  we  all  make 
mistakes,"  Tom  muttered  to  himself.  "And 
surely  Ealph  will  do  all  in  his  power  to  make 
Edith  believe  that  I  have  used  every  effort 
to  get  home  in  time.  Since  he  made  me  promise 
to  hand  the  money  to  Mrs.  Price,  and  to  her 
alone,  he  will  be  man  enough  to  see  that  I  do 
not  suffer  for  it  in  the  estimation  of  the  dear 
people  at  Homewood. ' ' 

This  thought  moved  him  to  telegraph  to 
Ealph  as  well  as  to  Edith.  To  the  man  he 
sent  the  following  message : 


52  In  the  Web  of  Life 

"  Could  not  see  your  friend  until  this  after- 
noon. Missed  train. 

"T.  M." 

Somehow  he  felt  better  when  he  had  sent 
off  that  wire.  Ealph  would  know  why  he  was 
detained  and  would  be  so  sorry  about  it  that 
he  would  lay  especial  stress  on  the  fact  that 
the  business  that  had  delayed  Tom  was  most 
important.  Perhaps — and  Tom's  heart  glowed 
with  the  thought — he  would  even  tell  Edith  the 
entire  truth  about  the  money,  taking  upon  him- 
self all  the  blame.  Why,  of  course  Ealph  would 
do  that !  Tom  would  do  it  were  the  positions 
reversed,  and  certainly  Ealph  was  better,  more 
generous  than  he ! 

His  heart  was  lighter  by  the  time  he  had 
reached  this  conclusion.  He  would  send  a  long 
telegram  to  Edith.  How  silly  it  was  to  confine 
oneself  to  ten  words  in  telegraphing!  As  if  a 
hundred  cents,  more  or  less,  were  worth  con- 
sidering when  the  matter  of  making  an  explana- 
tion was  at  stake. 

So,  with  a  fine  disregard  of  expense,  he  drew 
a  telegraph  blank  from  its  holder  and  set  him- 
self to  the  task  of  composing  his  message  to 
his  betrothed.  He  destroyed  several  perfectly 


In  the  Web  of  Life  53 

good  blanks  before  he  was  even  partially  satis- 
fied with  the  results  of  his  cogitations.  This 
was  the  best  that  he  could  do  under  the  circum- 
stances, he  decided,  as  he  read  and  reread  his 

message : 

"Important  business  made  me  lose  train.  In- 
tensely disappointed.  Could  catch  nothing  ear- 
lier than  11  o  'clock  train  to  Homewood.  Please 
send  message  to  me  at  my  apartment.  Am  sure 
you  will  understand  and  share  my  distress. 

"T.  M." 

He  paid  for  the  message  almost  eagerly.  It 
was  good  to  be  doing  something  that  would 
seem  to  put  him  in  communication  with  Edith. 
He  had  asked  her  to  send  him  a  line  to  his 
apartment  because  he  longed  to  be  assured  of 
her  comprehension  of  his  feelings.  Of  course 
she  would  send  him  a  message.  He  would  find 
a  telegram  awaiting  him,  saying  that  she  un- 
derstood and  telling  him  to  come  out  as  early 
as  possible  to-morrow.  What  a  comfort  it  was 
to  be  engaged  to  a  girl  who  had  faith  in  one! 

All  of  which  was  a  little  like  a  small  boy 
who  whistles  in  going  through  a  dark  wood  to 
prove  that  he  is  not  afraid. 

It  was  with  a  sigh  of  genuine   relief  that 


54  In  the  Web  of  Life 

Tom  Morton  boarded  the  Congressional  Lim- 
ited and  selected  his  seat.  He  leaned  back  in 
his  Pullman  chair  and  closed  his  eyes  with  the 
consciousness  that  every  turn  of  the  wheels 
was  bringing  him  nearer  New  York  and  the 
woman  he  loved. 


Chapter  Five 

During  the  morning  in  which  Tom  Morton 
was  suffering  from  delays  and  consequent  agi- 
tation, Edith  Hale  had  been  happy  and  satis- 
fied with  herself  and  the  world  in  general. 

Ealph  Morton  had  decided  that,  as  his  mother 
was  not  feeling  well,  he  would  not  go  into  the 
city  to-day,  and  at  11  o'clock  had  presented 
himself  at  the  Hale  home  in  his  automobile  run- 
about and  suggested  that  Edith  might  like  to 
"take  a  spin"  with  him. 

At  first  she  hesitated,  looking  at  him  doubt- 
fully. He  laughed  so  merrily  at  her  grave 
countenance  that  she,  too,  laughed. 

"Oh,  come  along!"  he  urged.  "I  promise  to 
be  jolly  and  good  and  sweet-tempered  and  not 
a  bit  sentimental.  I  wasn  't  very  nice  last  night, 
I  admit,  but  I  have  decided  not  to  cry  any 
more  over  spilt  milk.  Go  and  put  on  your  hat 
and  coat  and  breathe  some  of  this  heavenly  air. 
Good  morning,  almost  cousin!"  as  Constance 
came  out  upon  the  veranda,  "Do  use  your 
influence  to  make  this  girl  come  with  me.  I 
55 


56  In  the  Web  of  Life 

have  promised  her  not  to  talk  anything  serious 
and  not  to  say  a  cross  word  if  she  will  come. 
It's  too  bad,"  he  added  as  an  afterthought, 
"that  this  rig  holds  only  two,  for  I  would  like 
to  take  you  with  us." 

"Oh,  thank  you,"  Constance  replied,  "but  I 
could  not  go  anyway,  for  I  have  two  music  les- 
sons to  give  this  morning."  Then,  turning  to 
Edith,  she  asked  in  a  low  tone,  "Do  you  want 
to  go  for  a  ride,  dear?" 

"Yes,"  Edith  acknowledged,  "I  think  I'd  like 
it,  especially  as  Ralph  has  promised  to  be  nice." 

The  man  kept  his  word  so  well  that  his  com- 
panion returned  from  the  jaunt  with  her  cheeks 
aglow  and  her  eyes  sparkling. 

"He  can  be  so  jolly,"  she  told  Constance 
later,  "that  I  do  not  see  why  he  must  some- 
times get  those  silly  sentimental  streaks  such 
as  he  had  last  evening.  I  have  never  seen  two 
cousins  more  unlike  than  Ealph  and  Tom." 

"They  are  alike  in  the  fact  that  they  both 
care  for  you, ' '  Constance  remarked. 

Edith  flushed.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "I  believe 
they  do.  Yet  in  such  a  different  way. ' ' 

"Tom  is  much  more  stable  than  Ralph,"  Con- 
stance said.  "He  has  depths  of  feeling  which 


In  the  Web  of  Life  57 

Ralph  could  not  understand.  Both  are  inter- 
esting men,  but  Ralph  is  weak  compared  to 
Tom." 

It  was  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  two 
girls  were  lying  down  resting.  Edith  had 
coaxed  Constance  to  come  into  her  room  and 
"loaf"  for  a  while.  "So  that  you  will  look 
even  prettier  than  usual  to-night,"  she  had 
said.  And  Constance  had  smilingly  consented. 
She  enjoyed  Edith  when  the  girl  was  in  one 
of  her  sunny  moods. 

"You  always  have  a  good  word  to  say  for 
Tom,"  Edith  went  on  now,  "and  he  deserves 
all  the  good  things  any  one  can  say  of  him.  He 
is  a  dear  old  chap!" 

Constance  laughed.  "Old!"  she  scoffed. 
"One  would  think  that  thirty  years  was  a  great 
age!  You  forget  that  in  seven  years  I  will 
be  thirty  myself." 

"Well,  I  am  only  two  years  younger  than 
you,"  regretted  Edith.  "But  I  don't  want  to 
grow  old." 

"You  need  not  be  afraid  of  age  if  you  have 
Tom  with  you,"  Constance  reminded  her. 
"That  is  one  beautiful  thing  about  marriage 
when  people  love  each  other — they  grow  old  to- 


58  In  the  Web  of  Life 

gether,  so  that  neither  is  lonely.  I  was  think- 
ing of  that  last  night  as  I  looked  at  uncle  and 
aunt." 

"I  know  it's  true  about  them,"  Edith  agreed. 
Her  face  had  softened,  and  there  was  a  tender 
look  in  her  eyes  as  she  continued.  "Father 
and  mother  make  me  appreciate  what  love 
really  is.  Oh,  Connie!"  with  a  long  breath  of 
joy,  "how  happy  I  ought  to  be  and  how  happy 
I  am!  I  have  dear  father  and  mother  and 
you  and  Tom!" 

"Last,  but  not  least!"  Constance  teased. 

"No — to-day  I  have  been  sure  that  he  is 
first,"  Edith  said.  "I  can  hardly  believe  that 
only  last  night  I  talked  as  if  I  would  be  as 
happy  with  Ealph  as  with  Tom.  I  was  vexed 
when  I  said  that.  Now  I  know  better,  and  I 
can  never  distrust  Tom  again." 

Before  her  companion  could  reply  there  was 
a  knock  at  the  door  and  the  maid  entered  with 
a  telegram.  "For  you,  Miss  Edith,"  she  said, 
"and  the  boy  is  waiting  to  see  if  there  is  any 
answer." 

Edith  tore  open  the  envelope,  and  there  was 
a  tense  silence  while  she  read  the  message. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  59 

''No,"  she  said,  without  looking  up,  "there 
is  no  answer." 

The  door  had  closed  behind  the  maid  before 
Edith  spoke  again.  "This  is  from  Tom,"  she 
explained,  her  voice  trembling.  ' '  He  says  that 
he  has  been  detained  and  cannot  reach  New 
York  in  time  to  be  here  for  dinner,  but  will 
surely  arrive  about  ten. ' ' 

She  made  no  further  comment,  but  lay  on 
the  bed  gazing  hard  at  the  ceiling.  Her  cousin 
touched  her  hand  gently. 

"I'm  sorry,  dear,"  she  sympathized.  "I 
know  how  much  disappointed  you  are. ' ' 

"This  is  the  second  time  in  twenty-four 
hours  that  Tom  has  failed  me,"  Edith  said.  She 
picked  up  the  slip  of  yellow  paper  again  and 
looked  at  it  as  if  she  would  wring  from  it  some 
further  information. 

"It  was  sent  from  Baltimore,  and  was  prob- 
ably written  right  after  luncheon,"  she  com- 
mented. "It  must  be  very  important  business 
that  detains  him." 

There  was  a  tinge  of  sarcasm  in  the  words, 
but  Constance  ignored  this. 

"Indeed  it  must  be,"  she  assented.  Sud- 
denly she  remembered  her  suspicions  of  last 


60  In  the  Web  of  Life 

night  with  regard  to  Ralph's  knowledge  of 
Tom's  errand  to  Baltimore.  As  if  reading  her 
thoughts,  Edith  spoke  slowly,  musingly. 

"I  am  sure  that  Ealph  knows  what  the  busi- 
ness is,"  she  said.  "I  might  ask  him." 

"Oh,  dear  Edith,"  Constance  protested 
gently,  "I  wouldn't  do  that  if  I  were  you!" 

"If  Tom  fails  me  again  I  will!"  the  girl 
threatened. 

* '  But  he  won 't  fail  you  again ! ' '  Constance  de- 
clared confidently. 

A  kindly  Providence  seems  to  have  decreed 
that  when  one  would  feel  justified  in  sitting 
down  to  nurse  a  grudge  or  a  grievance,  there 
are  details  which  demand  one's  time  and 
thought  and  leave  scant  leisure  for  introspec- 
tion or  self-pity. 

Such  was  the  case  on  the  afternoon  on  which 
Edith  Hale  received  Tom  Morton's  first  tele- 
gram. It  was  Constance  who  reminded  her 
that  there  was  something  to  be  done,  and  that 
quickly. 

"You  know,"  the  older  girl  said,  "that  we 
must  tell  aunt  that  Tom  cannot  be  here  and 
consult  with  her  as  to  whom  we  shall  invite 


In  the  Web  of  Life  61 

to  sit  in  his  place.  It  is  late  now  to  secure  an 
eligible  man." 

"I  don't  care  who  comes  now,"  Edith  com- 
plained. Nevertheless,  she  arose  from  the  bed 
where  she  had  been  lying  and  accompanied  Con- 
stance to  Mrs.  Hale's  room.  Here  was  held 
a  consultation  which  resulted  in  Edith's  tele- 
phoning to  various  bachelors  of  her  acquaint- 
ance in  the  hope  that  one  of  them  would  be  dis- 
engaged for  the  evening. 

At  last  one  was  found  who  said  that  he  would 
be  delighted  to  take  the  absent  guest's  place— 
"even  as  a  stop-gap,  for  to  be  invited  to  a  din- 
ner at  such  a  home  was  an  honor  always." 

The  graceful  speech  brought  a  happier  look 
to  Edith's  eyes,  though  her  mood  was  still  less 
buoyant  than  it  had  been  earlier  in  the  day, 
and  she  cherished  in  the  bottom  of  her  heart 
a  slight  sensation  of  resentment  toward  her  be- 
trothed. She  was  almost  ashamed  to  acknowl- 
edge this,  for  it  was  evident  that  her  mother 
and  cousin  felt  nothing  but  sympathy  for  the 
man  who  could  not  be  present  at  his  own  en- 
gagement dinner. 

' '  Of  course  we  will  not  announce  the  engage- 
ment until  dear  Tom  arrives,"  Mrs.  Hale  re- 


62  In  the  Web  of  Life 

marked.  "As  Mr.  Dayton  is  to  take  Tom's 
place  at  the  table,  I  suppose  he  will  sit  by  me 
at  dinner — won't  he?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  replied  Edith.  Then  she 
flushed  consciously.  "And,"  she  continued,  "I 
believe  I  want  Ealph  to  sit  by  me,  after  all. 
You  don't  mind,  Connie,  do  you?" 

"Why  should  I  mind?"  parried  Constance. 
She  was  sure  that  pique  was  at  the  root  of 
Edith's  decision.  Edith  herself  hurried  on  to 
explain  her  change  of  position. 

"You  see,"  she  said,  "when  I  told  you  last 
night  that  I  would  prefer  that  someone  else 
should  take  me  in  to  dinner  I  expected  that 
the  engagement  would  be  announced  while  we 
were  still  at  table,  and  it  would  be  easier  for 
me  to  have  a  stranger  to  talk  to  then.  But 
now  I  don 't  care.  Ealph  may  sit  by  me. ' ' 

This  matter  arranged,  her  spirits  rose  again 
and  she  chatted  brightly  and  happily  of  having 
some  music  and  dancing  during  the  evening  to 
detain  the  guests  until  Tom  should  arrive. 

"You  are  always  so  good  about  playing  for 
pur  dancing,  Connie,"  she  said  with  a  little 
laugh.  ' '  After  all,  Tom 's  not  being  here  to  din- 
ner will  make  our  friends  think  that  there  is 


In  the  Web  of  Life  63 

nothing  between  him  and  me.  The  surprise  will 
be  all  the  greater  when  they  do  know.  Per- 
haps, in  spite  of  my  blues,  it  is  turning  out  for 
the  best." 

Throwing  an  arm  about  Constance's  waist, 
she  waltzed  her  the  length  of  the  great  hall 
and  back,  then  dropped  down  upon  the  piano 
stool  and  began  to  play  a  little  accompaniment 
to  the  words  of  an  old  nursery  song,  singing 
it  in  her  sweet  girlish  voice : 

"Bobby  Shafto's  gone  to  sea, 
Silver  buckles  on  his  knee ; 
He'll  come  back  and  marry  me; 
Pretty  Bobby  Shaf to!" 

"He  hasn't  really  gone  to  sea,"  she  laughed, 
springing  up  from  her  seat  and  kissing  Con- 
stance, who  stood  near  her,  "but  he'll  come 
back  and  marry  me,  nevertheless." 

Her  mother  eyed  her  affectionately,  yet 
slightly  puzzled  by  the  child's  many  changes  of 
manner. 

"I  declare,  darling,"  the  elderly  woman  said, 
"you  are  to-day  what  the  Scotch  call  'fey.'  I 
don't  know  when  I  have  seen  you  so  gay." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Edith,  bestowing  a  light 


64  In  the  Web  of  Life 

kiss  on  her  mother's  gray  hair,  "I  wasn't  gay 
a  while  ago  when  Tom's  message  came;  but 
now  I  see  I  was  silly  to  be  hurt.  All 's  well  that 
ends  well,  and  since  he  will  surely  be  here  soon 
after  dinner  it's  all  right.  You  see,  we  don't 
dine  until  half -past  seven,  and  we  will  be  easily 
two  hours  at  the  table,  and  he  will  get  here 
by  ten  o'clock.  So  I'm  just  going  to  be  happy 
and  not  spend  time  regretting  what  can't  be 
helped." 

''That's  sensible,  dearie,"  her  mother  ap- 
proved. "It's  harder  on  Tom,  you  know,  than 
on  any  one  else.  But  a  business  man's  time 
is  never  his  own. ' ' 

Mrs.  Hale,  Constance  and  Edith  were  still 
talking  in  the  drawing-room  when  the  maid  ap- 
peared at  the  door  with  the  five-o'clock  tea 
tray.  Mr.  Hale,  who  had  just  come  out  from 
town,  joined  the  group,  and  in  spite  of  his 
declaration  that  he  "really  didn't  care  a  bit  for 
tea,"  accepted  a  cup  of  it  and  drank  it  with 
an  avidity  that  belied  his  words. 

Edith  was  laughing  at  him  and  teasing  him 
for  his  inconsistency  when,  for  the  second  time 
that  afternoon,  a  maid  appeared  with  a  yellow 


In  the  Web  of  Life  6$ 

envelope  and  said,  as  before,  "A  telegram  for 
you,  Miss  Edith." 

For  a  moment  all  the  blood  seemed  to  ebb 
from  Edith  Hale's  face  as  she  read  the  mes- 
sage and  handed  it  to  her  father. 

"You  may  read  it  to  the  others,"  she  said 
dully.  Turning  to  Constance  she  looked  at  her 
almost  accusingly,  "You  may  remember,"  she 
said,  "how  sure  you  were  that  Tom  would  not 
fail  me  again.  You  see  you  were  wrong." 

As  her  father  read  the  message  aloud  she 
stood  listening  as  if  she  had  not  known  its  con- 
tents before. 

"Poor  Tom!"  Mr.  Hale  exclaimed.  "It's 
too  bad ! "  He  glanced  out  into  the  hall.  * '  Per- 
haps the  messenger  boy  is  waiting  for  a  reply," 
he  said;  "but,  no — I  see  he  has  gone." 

"It  is  just  as  well,"  Edith  remarked  color- 
lessly. *  *  I  have  no  reply  to  send ! ' ' 

Then,  before  any  one  could  speak  a  word 
of  sympathy  to  her,  she  fled  from  the  room  and 
upstairs. 

When,  ten  minutes  after  Edith's  flight  from 
the  drawing  room,  Constance  knocked  at  her 
closed  door,  there  was  at  first  no  reply. 


66  In  the  Web  of  Life 

"Edith!"  Constance  called  softly,  "let  me 
come  in,  dear — just  for  a  moment." 

The  key  was  turned  in  the  lock  and  Edith 
faced  her  cousin,  her  eyes  swollen  by  crying, 
her  cheeks  flushed.  She  was  not  crying  now. 
Indeed,  the  spark  of  anger  in  her  eyes  had  dried 
up  her  tears. 

"What  do  you  want?"  she  asked  coldly. 

But  as  Constance  entered  the  room  Edith's 
self-possession  deserted  her  for  a  moment. 

"Oh,  Connie!"  she  exclaimed,  covering  her 
face  with  her  hands,  "I'm  so  mortified — so 
ashamed ! ' ' 

Closing  the  door  behind  her  that  no  chance 
passer  through  the  hall  might  overhear  the  con- 
versation, Constance  put  her  arms  about  the 
unhappy  girl  and  drew  her  close  to  her. 

' '  Ashamed ! ' '  she  repeated.  * '  But  why,  dear 
Edith?  There  is  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of." 

"Yes,  there  is,"  Edith  contradicted,  her  face 
still  hidden  in  her  hands.  "I  have  let  a  man 
play  fast  and  loose  with  me — have  let  Tom 
Morton  flatter  himself  that  I  care  for  him,  and 
now  he  shows  me  that  he  cares  nothing  for 
me;  that  he  has  so  little  sense  of  common  de- 
cency that  he  will  make  me  the  laughing  stock 


In  the  Web  of  Life  67 

of  all  those  people  who  are  coming  here  to- 
night. I  can't  stand  it!  I  tell  you  I  can't 
stand  it!" 

" Edith!"  Constance  remonstrated  sternly. 
1 '  Stop  talking  like  that  and  listen  to  me.  First 
of  all,  we  must  decide  what's  to  be  done  about 
to-night.  Then  we  can  talk  of  poor  Tom  after 
that." 

"  'Poor  Tom!'  "  Edith  repeated  scornfully. 
"I  am  the  one  to  be  pitied,  not  Tom!" 

But  Constance  stopped  her  with  a  gesture. 
"It  is  a  mistake,"  she  said,  "to  talk  about  any 
one  when  one  is  angry  with  him — don't  you 
think  so?  And  besides  that,  dear,  let  us  dis- 
cuss the  matter  of  the  dinner  first  of  all. 
There's  no  time  to  be  lost — so  gather  yourself 
together.  Your  mother  asked  me  to  talk  the 
matter  over  with  you.  I  told  her  you  and  I 
would  arrange  everything,  that  you  were  al- 
ways to  be  depended  upon  where  pluck  and 
grit  were  needed." 

The  appeal  to  her  pride  had  the  desired 
effect  upon  Edith.  She  raised  her  head  from 
her  hands,  and  consented  to  sit  down  on  the 
divan  by  Constance  and  listen  to  her  sugges- 
tions. 


68  In  the  Web  of  Life 

"Now,"  the  older  girl  said,  "you  must  re- 
member that  nobody  who  will  be  here  to-night 
knows  that  this  was  to  be  an  engagement  din- 
ner, so  nobody  will  expect  an  announcement  of 
any  kind — for  all  are  in  ignorance  of  the  state 
of  affairs — all,  that  is,  except  Ralph." 

The  listening  girl  caught  her  breath  sharply. 
"Yes,"  she  exclaimed — "except  Ealphl  But 
what  is  to  be  told  him?" 

"The  truth,"  said  Constance  decidedly. 

"Then  I'll  tell  it  to  him,"  declared  Edith,  a 
vindictive  sound  in  her  voice. 

But  Constance  seemed  to  ignore  this.  ' '  Yet, ' ' 
she  went  on,  "if  you  wish  to  have  your  en- 
gagement announced  this  evening  it  can  be  done. 
It  will  be  very  easy  to  explain  that  Tom  was 
detained  in  Baltimore  by  business — in  fact  we 
could  make  something  of  a  joke  of  the  cir- 
cumstance of  the  honored  man 's  not  being  able 
.to  get  here  even  though  he  had  made  every 
effort  to  do  so." 

She  looked  at  Edith  hopefully,  but  met  no 
response  in  the  gaze  which  Tom's  fiancee  fixed 
upon  her. 

"No,"  Edith  said,  "I  shall  not  announce 
my  engagement  to-night — not  unless  the  news 


In  the  Web  of  Life  69 

of  it  has  already  got  out.  If  it  has,  I  will 
deny  it.  For  I  am  not  engaged." 

"Oh,  my  dear,"  Constance  begged,  "won't 
you  let  that  matter  rest  until  to-morrow?  Then 
you  can  look  at  it  calmly  and  dispassionately 
after  you  have  heard  Tom's  explanation." 

Edith  paused  a  full  minute  before  she  an- 
swered with  a  hardness  and  lack  of  feeling  that 
convinced  Constance  that  she  was  making  a 
tremendous  effort  at  self-control. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  will  wait  until  to-mor- 
row, when  I  shall  decide  this  matter  finally 
— although  I  think  I  know  now  what  my  de- 
cision will  be.  It  all  depends  on " 

She  stopped.  "On  what?"  Constance  asked 
anxiously. 

"On  what  Ealph  says  about  his  cousin's  busi- 
ness in  Baltimore.  He  knows  more  than  he 
has  told  us,  I  am  sure — and  I  shall  get  the 
truth  from  him." 

"Yes,"  said  Constance  significantly,  "I  think 
Ealph  does  know  more  than  he  has  told  us 
about  Tom's  mission  to  Baltimore — and  more 
than  he  is  likely  to  tell  us." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  demanded  Edith. 

"I  would  rather  not  say  anything  more  just 


70  In  the  Web  of  Life 

now,"  Constance  replied.  "I  should  not  have 
let  mere  suspicion  make  me  speak  as  I  did. 
Only  I  am  sure  that  Tom  is  honest  and  true." 

' '  And  you  don 't  trust  Ralph ! ' '  Edith  insisted. 
"You  think  he  is  not  trustworthy,  don't  you?" 

Constance  took  the  excited  girl's  cold  hand 
in  her  warm  clasp.  "Dear  Edith,"  she  said, 
"I  am  asserting  nothing,  except  that  the  man 
who  loves  you  is  good  and  would  not  hurt  you 
for  the  world.  Try  to  trust  him,  dear ! ' ' 

"I  have  trusted  him!"  Edith  retorted,  her 
eyes  flashing.  "I  have  trusted  him  again  and 
again.  And  you  see  the  result!  No,  I  don't 
trust  him  now — and  I  don't  care  for  him  as 
much  as  he  thinks  I  do ! " 

Constance  rose  with  a  sigh.  "Shall  I  go 
down  and  tell  aunt  what  we  have  decided  about 
the  dinner — that  we  shall  not  announce  the  en- 
gagement since  Tom  can't  be  here?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  replied  Edith,  "please  tell  her  that 
we  will  not  announce  any  engagement — unless 
we  have  to!" 


Chapter  Six 

Looking  around  her  dinner  table  at  the  com- 
pany assembled  there,  Mrs.  Hale  told  herself 
that,  after  all,  the  affair  was  proving  a  suc- 
cess. The  men  were  clever  and  brilliant;  the 
girls  attractive  and  merry. 

The  dear  soul  had  had  many  sinkings  of 
heart  over  the  combination  of  circumstances 
that  had  necessitated  Tom  Morton's  absence  in 
spite  of  his  longings  to  be  with  his  fiancee  on 
this  occasion.  Edith's  mother  never  doubted 
Tom's  sincerity  nor  his  intention  to  be  present 
to-night.  She  had  pardoned  Edith's  swift  re- 
sentment, for  she  was  sure  that  it  was  only 
the  mood  of  the  moment. 

Constance,  in  telling  her  aunt  of  the  decision 
with  regard  to  the  non-announcement  of  the 
engagement  this  evening,  had  not  intimated 
that  the  girl  was  angry  with  Tom.  The  mother 
assured  herself  that  her  child's  vexation  had 
been  only  of  a  moment's  duration.  Had  not 
she  herself,  Martha  Hale,  sometimes  been  out 
of  patience  with  her  own  dear  John  ?  She  hated 
71 


72  In  the  Web  of  Life 

to  remember  that  she  had  ever  been  so  un- 
reasonable, but  she  could  not  deny  the  truth. 

"So  Edith  would  rather  wait  to  announce 
her  betrothal  until  Tom  can  be  with  her?"  Mrs. 
Hale  had  asked  her  niece. 

And  Constance  had  replied,  "Yes,  aunt.  She 
thinks  it  would  be  better — unless  you  object." 

"Of  course  I  don't  object,"  Mrs.  Hale  had 
assured  her.  "Jndeed  I  think  it  is  a  very  nat- 
ural preference  on  the  dear  child's  part.  I  am 
sorry  for  her  disappointment,  but  it  will  all 
come  out  right  in  the  end. ' ' 

The  expected  guests  had  arrived  on  time,  the 
table  was  beautiful,  the  floral  decorations,  ar- 
ranged by  Constance's  deft  fingers,  very  ef- 
fective, and  all  was  going  off  happily.  Ed- 
ward Dayton,  the  man  who  was  taking  Tom 
Morton's  place  at  Mrs.  Hale's  right  hand,  was 
a  pleasant  young  fellow  who  was  glad  to  have 
been  selected  as  a  substitute  for  the  missing 
guest.  So  agreeable  did  he  make  himself  that 
the  hostess  forgot  to  be  sorry  for  Edith.  When 
at  last  she  looked  down  the  table  at  her,  her 
daughter's  appearance  allayed  any  doubts  that 
might  have  arisen  in  the  mother's  mind. 

No  other  girl  present  was  as  pretty  as  Edith. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  73 

She  had  never  looked  lovelier  than  she  did  to- 
night, the  proud  parent  observed.  Ealph  was 
evidently  making  himself  very  amusing  and 
Edith  was  laughing  even  more  than  usual  at  his 
jokes  and  stories.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed, 
her  eyes  almost  unnaturally  bright.  She  had, 
apparently,  recovered  entirely  from  her  disap- 
pointment. 

Opposite  Edith  sat  Constance,  talking  to  the 
man  next  to  her  in  such  a  way  as  to  entertain 
him,  yet  her  aunt  knew  that  her  ever  watchful 
eyes  would  be  sure  to  detect  any  lack  of  at- 
tention on  the  part  of  the  servants  and  that 
she  would  tactfully  and  quietly  rectify  it.  What 
a  comfort  the  child  was  in  the  house!  And 
again  the  hostess  sighed  with  satisfaction. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  there  befell  one 
of  those  strange  and  unaccountable  pauses  in 
the  conversation — one  of  the  pauses  which  we 
all  have  noticed  even  in  a  room  full  of  people 
who,  a  moment  before,  were  all  chatting  busily. 
An  old  superstition  has  it  that  when  there  comes 
such  a  sudden  lull  an  angel  is  passing  by.  Con- 
stance Medford  was  about  to  mention  this  tra- 
dition to  her  companion  when  a  man  seated 


74  In  the  Web  of  Life 

farther  down  the  table  asked,  as  if  to  fill  in  the 
awkward  pause : 

"By  the  way,  where 's  Tom  Morton  to-night? 
I  rather  expected  to  see  him  here,  for" — with 
a  glance  at  Ealph — "you  two  Mortons  gener- 
ally hunt  in  couples,  don't  you?" 

It  was  a  thoughtless  speech  and  might  have 
passed  unnoticed  had  Edith  Hale  not  flushed 
hotly  and  started  to  speak.  Ealph  attempted 
to  conceal  her  embarrassment  by  replying 
quickly : 

"Yes,  Tom's  missing  all  this  fun  because  of 
of  an  overstrained  sense  of  duty.  He's  been 
called  out  of  town  on  business." 

'  *  Too  bad ! ' '  said  someone.  Then  the  talk  be- 
came general  once  more  and  Constance  breathed 
more  freely.  Was  it  only  fancy  that  made  her 
think  that  several  of  the  guests  looked  with 
some  curiosity  at  Edith?  Could  the  rumor  of 
her  engagement  possibly  have  gotten  abroad? 

The  glances  had  not  escaped  Edith's  con- 
sciousness, and  it  was  with  a  nervous  manner 
that  she  turned  to  Ralph  when  her  guests  were 
once  more  launched  upon  the  stream  of  ani- 
mated conversation. 

"It  was  kind — and  like  you — to  answer  so 


In  the  Web  of  Life  75 

quickly  just  now, ' '  she  said  in  a  low  tone.  ' ;  For 
a  moment  I  was  at  a  loss  as  to  what  to  say. 
But  you  did  just  the  right  thing." 

"I  spoke  only  the  truth,"  he  rejoined  lightly. 
11  Could  I  do  less?" 

The  girl  looked  at  him  swiftly  and  search- 
ingly.  "You  mean  you  spoke  a  part  of  what 
seems  to  be  the  truth,"  she  corrected  him. 

"My  dear  girl!"  he  ejaculated,  changing 
color  slightly.  "What  do  you  mean?  What 
are  you  hinting  at?" 

"I'm  not  hinting  at  anything,"  she  replied. 
' '  I  am  merely  saying  that  you  know  that  there 
is  a  reason  for  Tom's  absence — a  reason  which 
you  have  not  told  me. ' ' 

"Are  you  sure  he  has  not  told  you?"  he 
asked  suspiciously,  watching  her  anxiously. 

' '  Of  course  he  hasn  't, ' '  she  replied.  '  *  I  fancy 
it  is  to  his  interest  not  to,  and  that  you  know 
it  is,  yet  are  trying  to  protect  him." 

There  was  a  long  silence  while  Ealph  set  his 
wits  to  work.  This  girl  doubted  Tom ;  she  be- 
lieved that  there  was  some  other  matter  than 
business  that  was  keeping  him  away;  possibly 
that  there  was  some  woman  who  was  detain- 
ing him.  Of  course,  there  was — but  need  she 


76  In  the  Web  of  Life 

know  that  the  woman  was  no  friend  of  Tom's? 

As  he  reviewed  the  events  of  the  past  few 
days  a  great  temptation  faced  this  man.  He 
was  not  in  the  habit  of  fighting  temptations 
vigorously.  All  his  life  when  he  had  gotten 
into  scrapes  there  had  been  someone  to  get 
him  out  of  them — as  Tom  was  doing  now.  And 
whenever  Ralph  Morton  had  wanted  anything 
he  usually  got  it.  He  wanted  this  girl ;  he  had 
loved  her  for  years,  although  Tom  had  never 
suspected  this.  How  easy  it  would  be  now  to 
tell  her  again  what  he  had  as  good  as  told  her 
often  before — that  he  loved  her ! 

While  Edith  sat  at  his  side,  waiting  for  his 
denial  of  the  justice  of  her  suspicions,  Ealph 
Morton  made  a  mental  survey  of  his  position. 

The  instruments  for  accomplishing  his  sud- 
denly formed  designs  were  laid  ready  to  his 
hand.  Had  he  not  a  right  to  use  them  for  his 
own  advantage?  For  only  an  instant  did  he 
consider  Tom — his  cousin,  his  friend — kept 
away  from  the  woman  he  loved  by  his  willing- 
ness to  help  him,  Ralph,  out  of  trouble.  He 
put  that  thought  from  him  with  a  mental  shrug. 

Sophistry  rushed  forward,  as  it  always  does 
when  one  hesitates  between  right  and  wrong. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  77 

Such  sentences  as  "Everything's  fair  in  love 
and  war,"  "The  end  justifies  the  means," 
"Every  man  for  himself,"  ran  through  his 
mind.  With  such  facile  phrases  he  had  slain 
good  impulses  so  often  that  now  they  had  only 
to  show  themselves  to  be  felled  to  the  ground 
by  the  weapons  of  the  sophist.  Surely  he, 
Ralph  Morton,  had  a  right  to  the  woman  he 
loved — if  she  loved  him. 

He  recalled  some  adage  about  "the  heart 
caught  in  the  rebound."  Might  not  Edith's 
heart  be  thus  caught?  Or — and  his  own  heart 
gave  an  excited  leap — might  she  not  already 
care  for  him?  Could  he  possibly  be  blamed  if 
he  let  her  decide  the  matter  of  her  future  for 
herself  and  for  him! 

"Well?  "Edith  queried. 

He  came  back  to  the  present  and  his  sur- 
roundings with  a  guilty  start.  Edith  was  look- 
ing at  him  inquiringly. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  stammered.  "Did 
you  ask  me  a  question?" 

"Some  minutes  ago,"  Edith  said  gravely,  "I 
suggested  that  you  knew  why  Tom  Morton  is 
not  here  to-night,  but  that  you  were  trying  to 


78  In  the  Web  of  Life 

shield  him.  Your  silence  has  been  my  answer. 
I  was  right." 

"Oh,"  Ealph  protested  feebly,  "you  must 
not  jump  at  conclusions,  Edith.  I  have  not  inti- 
mated that  dear  old  Tom  is  not  the  finest,  squar- 
est  chap  in  the  world.  Of  course  he  is ! " 

He  felt  that  in  speaking  like  this  he  was 
doing  Tom  a  kindness,  indeed  that  he  was  ac- 
tually sacrificing  himself  for  his  cousin's  sake. 
If  the  girl  did  not  believe  him — he  would  not 
be  to  blame. 

But  his  manner  had  not  been  of  the  nature 
to  carry  conviction.  "Don't  exert  yourself  to 
be  so  loyal,  Ealph,"  Edith  counseled.  "I  un- 
derstand. As  I  said  a  while  ago,  it  is  like  you 
to  try  to  protect  a  friend.  But  you  may  spare 
yourself  the  effort  in  this  case.  It  is  too  late." 

She  caught  her  breath  when  her  father  ad- 
dressed her  suddenly: 

"Edith,  child,"  Mr.  Hale  was  saying,  "you 
and  Ealph  were  so  intent  upon  some  argument 
that  you  did  not  hear  your  mother  suggest 
that  you  ladies  go  into  the  drawing  room  and 
allow  us  men  to  join  you  there  later  after  we 
have  had  our  smoke. ' ' 

Was  there  a  note  of  reproof  or  displeasure 


In  the  Web  of  Life  79 

in  his  voice?  Constance  Medford  wondered, 
looking  anxiously  at  the  elderly  man.  Then  as 
he  met  her  eyes  he  smiled  so  affectionately  that 
she  smiled  back  at  him. 

"Dear  child!"  he  murmured,  as  she  passed 
him  on  her  way  to  the  door. 

It  was  but  an  affectionate  phrase,  yet  it 
warmed  the  fatherless  girl's  heart  and  she  felt 
a  swift  understanding  of  and  sympathy  with 
her  uncle.  She  was  sure  that  he  did  not  en- 
tirely trust  Kalph  Morton. 

Then  she  saw  that  Ralph  had  accompanied 
Edith  as  far  as  the  dining-room  door  and  had 
detained  her  there  for  a  moment.  Had  Con- 
stance Medford  overheard  his  hurried  words 
she  would  have  felt  that  John  Hale  was  justified 
in  his  doubts. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  'too  late'?"  Ralph 
was  asking  in  a  low  voice. 

The  girl  scarcely  paused  in  replying.  "Just 
what  I  say.  It  is  too  late  for  you  to  try  to 
shield  Tom  now." 

Then  she  passed  on  out  into  the  hall  with 
the  other  girls  who  were  following  Mrs.  Hale 
into  the  drawing  room.  And,  although  Con- 
stance watched  her,  she  could  see  no  sign  of 


8o  In  the  Web  of  Life 

trouble  on  her  cousin's  face  as  she  chatted 
with  her  guests  until  the  men  came  in  from 
the  dining  room,  when  she  suggested  music  and 
dancing. 

When  the  merriment  was  at  its  height  Edith 
slipped  unobserved  from  the  room.  Her  head 
ached  and  she  longed  to  be  alone  for  a  few 
minutes,  away  from  the  lights  and  the  noise. 
Going  into  the  conservatory  at  the  back  of  the 
hall,  she  stood  in  the  fragrant  gloom,  trying  to 
collect  her  thoughts. 

Yet  even  here  she  was  not  to  be  left  undis- 
turbed, for  the  sudden  ringing  of  the  telephone 
in  the  rear  hall  broke  in  upon  her  solitude.  The 
dance  music  kept  those  in  the  drawing  room 
from  hearing  the  bell,  and  the  servants  were 
evidently  downstairs  lingering  long  over  their 
evening  meal.  Hurrying  out  of  the  conserva- 
tory, Edith  answered  the  insistent  summons. 
She  recognized  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Morton, 
Ealph's  mother. 

' '  Why,  Mrs.  Morton ! ' '  exclaimed  the  girl.  * '  I 
am  glad  you  are  able  to  be  up.  Ealph  made 
us  happy  this  evening  by  telling  us  that  you  are 
better." 

"Yes,"  answered  Ralph's  mother,  "I'm  bet- 


In  the  Web  of  Lift 


ter.  My  telephone  is  here  in  my  room  so  I 
don't  have  to  exert  myself  much  to  use  it.  I 
just  called  up  to  repeat  to  Ealph  a  telegram 
that  has  come  to  him  over  the  phone.  I  don't 
know  that  it's  of  any  importance — but  I  al- 
ways think  a  telegram  should  be  delivered  at 
once — don't  you?  Is  Ealph  disengaged  just 
now?" 

' '  Just  wait  a  minute  and  I  '11  see, ' '  said  Edith. 
She  ran  softly  down  the  hall  and  glanced  into 
the  drawing  room,  where  she  saw  Ealph  danc- 
ing with  a  girl  who  was  somewhat  of  a  wall- 
flower and  who  was,  evidently,  having  a  beauti- 
ful time.  "He's  dancing,"  Edith  reported  to 
Mrs.  Morton,  "but  I  will  call  him  if  you  wish." 

"Oh,  no,"  his  mother  replied  quickly,  "he 
might  not  like  being  disturbed !  Can't  you  take 
the  message  and  deliver  it  to  him  the  first 
chance  you  get?" 

"Certainly,"  agreed  Edith.  A  pencil  and 
pad  were  on  the  table  by  the  telephone.  "I  will 
just  write  it  down,"  she  said.  "Go  on." 

"Well,  I  jotted  it  down  on  a  piece  of  paper 
just  as  I  got  it.  It  is  quite  long  for  a  tele- 
gram. It  says : 


82  In  the  Web  of  Life 

"  'Your  cousin  brought  money.    F.  saw  Mm. 
Thinks  it  was  you.    Be  on  your  guard.  ' 


"Have  you  got  it,  Edith?  And—  oh,  yes  — 
it's  dated  from  Baltimore.  I  don't  understand 
what  it's  all  about.  But  I  suppose  it's  some- 
thing that  Ealph  and  Tom  understand." 

"Yes,"  said  the  girl  in  even  tones,  "I  think 
it  is  something  that  Kalph  and  Tom  under- 
stand. Good-night  !  '  ' 

It  was  with  a  dazed  sensation  that  Edith 
Hale  stood  still  for  a  moment  after  returning 
the  telephone  receiver  to  its  hook.  Her  first 
instinct  was  to  seek  solitude  for  reflection  —  she 
longed  to  run  up  to  her  room,  lock  herself  in 
and  think  out  the  situation  alone. 

This  she  must  not  do,  for  she  might  be  missed 
at  any  moment  and  sought  by  her  father  or 
mother,  and  it  would  seem  very  strange  if  she 
were  out  of  earshot.  But  right  here  in  the 
conservatory  she  could  be  found  at  an  instant's 
notice.  She  simply  could  not  face  all  those 
people  just  yet.  As  this  thought  came  to  her 
she  glanced  once  more  at  the  paper  on  which 
she  had  written  the  telegraph  message,  folded 
it,  slipped  it  into  the  front  of  her  dress  and  re- 


In  the  Web  of  Life  83 

turned  softly  to  the  semi-darkness  of  the  con- 
servatory. 

Walking  to  the  rear  of  the  glass  enclosure, 
she  sank  down  upon  a  low  wicker  chair  that 
stood  in  a  recess  formed  by  the  plants.  Here 
she  was  shielded  from  the  sight  of  any  one 
passing  the  door.  She  leaned  back  and  closed 
her  eyes  wearily.  Then,  as  she  felt  the  tears 
starting,  she  sat  up  straight.  It  would  not  do 
for  her  to  allow  her  tense  nerves  to  relax  yet. 
She  had  a  part  to  play,  a  plan  to  arrange. 

First  of  all,  what  did  this  telegram  mean? 
There  were  only  two  persons  besides  the  un- 
known sender  who  could  answer  that  question 
— Tom  and  Ealph  Morton.  One  of  them  must 
answer  it,  and  the  girl  determined  that  Ealph 
should  speak  the  truth  to  her  about  it  to-night. 

Who  was  "E.  P."  and  who  was  the  "F" 
who  mistook  Tom  for  Ealph?  And  why  need 
Ealph  be  on  his  guard? 

A  sudden  idea  flashed  burningly  through  her 
brain.  Tom  was  doing  something  which  he 
wished  to  conceal;  there  was  a  possibility  that 
Ealph  might  be  accused  of  it.  Some  friend  was 
warning  him  in  time,  before  he  could  become 


84  In  the  Web  of  Life 

a  victim  of  Tom's  efforts  to  masquerade  as 
Ealph  Morton. 

The  girl's  blood  boiled  with  anger  at  the 
thought  -of  Tom's  perfidy.  Of  course  there 
was  a  woman  in  the  case.  Yet  she  had  believed 
that  Tom  loved  her,  that  he  really  meant  all 
that  he  said  of  his  happiness  in  their  betrothal ! 
She  looked  down  at  the  solitaire  diamond  in 
her  engagement  ring.  Even  in  this  dim  light 
the  stone  flashed  with  red  and  green  gleams 
as  she  moved  her  hand.  An  impulse  made  her 
start  to  draw  it  from  her  finger,  but  voices  at 
the  entrance  of  the  conservatory  checked  her, 
and,  for  the  moment,  she  forgot  all  except  the 
sentences  that  came  to  her  ears. 

The  speakers  were  Edward  Dayton  and 
Beatrice  Craig,  the  "wall-flower,"  with  whom 
Ealph  had  been  dancing  just  now.  Although 
she  cared  little  for  dancing,  Beatrice  liked  to 
talk  and  had  a  predilection  for  gossip  which 
was  so  strong  as  to  make  her  regardless  of  her 
duty  of  reticence  with  regard  to  the  persons 
whose  hospitality  she  was  accepting. 

"It's  a  lovely  party,  isn't  it?"  she  was  say- 
ing, "but  the  rooms  are  getting  so  hot  that  it's 
nice  to  find  a  cool  place  like  this  conservatory. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  85 

Edith  Hale's  a  lucky  girl  to  have  such  a  home 
as  this,  even  though" — with  a  little  giggle — 
' '  rumor  says  she  will  not  remain  in  it  long. ' ' 

The  hidden  listener  had  moved  forward  to 
make  her  presence  known,  then  as  she  heard  her 
own  name  her  determination  wavered  and  she 
shrank  back  farther  into  the  shadows  cast  by 
the  tall  plants  about  her. 

1  'Why?"  Dayton  asked.  "Is  she  going 
away?" 

"Oh,"  Beatrice  Craig  replied,  "I'm  not 
speaking  by  the  card  at  all,  but  my  mother 
ran  in  to  see  Mrs.  Morton  to-day,  and  Mrs. 
Morton  mentioned  that  her  son — Ralph,  you 
know — was  coming  here  to  dinner  to-night  and 
hinted  that  there  might  be  an  interesting  bit  of 
information  given  out  this  evening.  I  guessed 
at  once  what  it  was,  and  I  also  noticed 
that  Edith's  wearing  a  new  ring.  She  has 
several  other  beauties,  too,  but  this  one  looks 
mighty  suspicious  to  me.  Besides  that,  didn't 
you  see  how  she  blushed  when  some  one  asked 
where  Tom  Morton  was?" 

The  man  tried  to  laugh.  He  was  not  inter- 
ested in  gossip  and  this  vapid  kind  of  chat 
irritated  him. 


86  In  the  Web  of  Life 

"Why,  to  tell  the  truth,"  he  averred,  "I  was 
having  such  a  pleasant  talk  with  my  hostess, 
and  was  enjoying  myself  so  thoroughly,  that 
I  did  not  take  time  to  play  amateur  detec- 
tive. " 

Even  in  the  dark  Edith  felt  herself  flush 
with  gratitude.  What  a  nice  man  he  was !  But 
the  speech  that  gratified  her  evidently  produced 
the  opposite  effect  upon  Miss  Craig. 

"I  assure  you  that  I  am  no  amateur  detec- 
tive, Mr.  Dayton!"  she  retorted.  "But  I  do 
not  think  it  took  any  especial  powers  of  obser- 
vation to  notice  Edith's  embarrassed  manner 
— and,  by  the  way — where  is  Tom  Morton  to- 
night? It  certainly  strikes  me  as  queer  that 
he  is  not  here,  for  I  have  shrewd  suspicions 
that  he  is  the  lucky  man." 

"I  thought  we  were  told  at  dinner  that  he 
was  detained  by  business,"  Dayton  replied 
coldly. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  and  there  was 
acidity  in  her  high-pitched  voice,  "you  men 
always  stand  up  for  one  another!  Well,  if  I 
were  Edith  Hale,  and  Tom  Morton  was  engaged 
to  me  and  stayed  away  from  my  dinner,  I 
would " 


In  the  Web   of  Life  87 

"Pardon  me!"  Edward  Dayton  interrupted 
her,  "but  someone  is  playing  a  waltz  which  I 
asked  Miss  Medford  to  dance  with  me.  One 
of  the  young  ladies  kindly  consented  to  take 
her  place  at  the  piano  and  give  us  a  waltz  of 
which  I  am  particularly  fond  so  that  I  might 
have  the  opportunity  of  dancing  with  Miss  Med- 
ford. As  I  must  go  and  find  my  partner,  may 
I  take  you  back  to  the  drawing  room?'* 

They  were  gone  and  Edith  Hale  sprang  to  her 
feet,  her  breath  coming  fast. 

So  that  was  what  people  were  saying,  was 
it!  It  was  careless  of  Ealph's  mother  to  let 
slip  the  bit  of  information  of  which  the  gossip 
had  made  so  much,  yet  if  Tom  had  been  present 
to-night  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  peo- 
ple to  draw  disagreeable  conclusions.  This 
was  the  kind  of  thing  he  was  subjecting  her  to 
by  his  underhand  methods  and  false  actions ! 

She  would  find  out  the  truth!  The  time  had 
come  for  action,  and  she  meant  to  act. 

And  with  head  held  high  and  lips  compressed, 
she  started  toward  the  drawing  room. 

She  met  her  father  as  she  was  passing 
through  the  hall. 


In  the  Web  of  Life 


"Well,  daughter,  dear,"  he  said,  "I  was  just 
looking  for  you.  Where  have  you  been?" 

"It  was  so  hot  in  the  drawing  room  that  I 
went  into  the  conservatory  for  a  few  minutes, ' ' 
she  replied,  avoiding  his  keen  gaze.  But  he 
was  not  to  be  put  off  thus,  and  laid  a  detaining 
hand  on  her  arm. 

"Little  girl,"  he  said  softly,  "you  are  not 
worrying,  are  you?" 

Her  self-control  wavered,  and  to  conceal  this 
fact  she  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  and 
kissed  him,  laughing  tremulously. 

"Why  should  I  worry?"  she  parried.  "You 
are  a  dear,  fussy  old  dad.  Stop  being  anxious 
about  me  and  my  worries — for  I'm  all  right, 
always!" 

"Good!"  the  parent  exclaimed,  patting  her 
cheek.  In  spite  of  his  pleasure  at  the  child's 
sudden  tenderness  for  him  and  her  assurance 
that  she  was  ' '  all  right, ' '  he  was  not  quite  sat- 
isfied. "Her  manner  is  too  gay!"  he  com- 
plained to  himself. 

Yet,  as  he  followed  her  with  his  eyes  and 
saw  her  accept  an  invitation  to  dance,  his  fears 
decreased.  Surely,  he  mused,  she  was  looking 
happy,  and  she  was  certainly  dancing  charm- 


In  the  Web  of  Life 


ingly.  As  he  noticed  this,  a  smile  of  pride  in 
his  daughter  replaced  the  frown  of  perplexity 
that  his  face  had  just  worn. 

Meanwhile  Edith  was  pretending  to  give  heed 
to  the  occasional  remarks  of  her  partner.  But 
all  the  while  she  was  conscious  that  Ralph  was 
standing  in  the  embrasure  formed  by  the  bay 
window,  watching  her.  Once  their  glances  met, 
and  he  smiled  swiftly  and  Edith  smiled  back. 
Then,  as  the  music  stopped,  and  the  young 
people  flocked  toward  the  hall  where  the  air 
was  cooler,  she  summoned  Ealph  to  her  side  by 
a  lifting  of  the  eyebrows. 

"I  must  be  with  these  people  and  talk  for  a 
few  minutes,"  she  murmured  as  he  joined  her. 
"Afterward  arrange  to  stand  by  the  piano,  for 
I  am  going  to  play  for  them  all  to  dance. '  ' 

He  bowed  in  silence,  although  he  felt  an  un- 
easy dread.  What  did  she  want  to  say  to  him 
that  required  such  planning?  Would  she  make 
his  scheme  to  win  her  easy,  or  had  he  done 
something  that  displeased  her? 

He  waited  near  her  in  uncomfortable  ex- 
pectancy for  fifteen  minutes  while  she  moved 
about  among  her  guests.  At  last  she  proposed 
a  Virginia  reel  and  summoned  the  various 


90  In  the  Web  of  Life 

couples  into  the  great  square  hall — even  insist- 
ing that  her  father  and  mother  take  part  in  the 
old-fashioned  dance  which,  as  girl  and  boy,  they 
had  enjoyed  together. 

"Constance  is  going  to  dance,  too,"  Edith  de- 
clared, "for  I  don't  care  for  the  Virginia  reel 
and  I'll  take  her  place  at  the  piano.  Ealph," 
turning  suddenly  to  the  man  at  her  side,  * '  come 
on  in  and  talk  to  me  while  I  play  'Pop  Goes 
the  Weasel'  for  these  giddy  creatures  to 
dance. ' ' 

"Oh,  no,"  Constance  protested,  "you  dance, 
Edith,  and  let  me  play." 

But  already  Edward  Dayton  had  stepped  for- 
ward to  claim  Constance  as  a  partner,  and 
Edith  shook  her  head. 

"No,  indeed,  Connie,"  she  laughed,  as  she 
hurried  away,  "I  tell  you  I  don't  want  to  dance 
now. ' ' 

She  seated  herself  at  the  piano  in  the  draw- 
ing room,  and  the  reel  began.  Ealph  stood  at 
her  side,  seeming  to  watch,  with  her,  the  com- 
pany in  the  hall.  She  said  nothing  until  the 
dance  was  so  well  under  way  that  she  and  her 
companion  were  forgotten  by  the  merry-mak- 
ers, then  she  spoke  in  a  low,  tense  tone. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  91 

"I  am  going  to  put  you  on  your  honor,  Ralph, 
to  tell  me  the  truth.  You  may  as  well  tell  it, 
for  I  know  a  part  of  it  already.  Who  is  the 
person  in  Baltimore  whose  initials  are  'E.  P."?" 

The  man  started.  How  much  did  she  know? 
Well,  it  would  commit  him  to  nothing  to  tell 
the  truth  about  this  one  thing. 

"  'E.  P.'?"  he  repeated,  as  if  pondering. 
"Why — the  only  person  I  can  think  of  in  Balti- 
more with  those  initials  is  a  Mrs.  Price — Mrs. 
Evelyn  Price. ' ' 

The  fingers  on  the  keys  did  not  falter  in  their 
regular  performance  of  their  duty.  It  takes  lit- 
tle thought  or  concentration  to  play  *  *  Pop  Goes 
the  Weasel"  over  and  over.  Edith  assimilated 
the  bit  of  information  she  had  received  before 
she  asked  another  question. 

"What  is  her  husband's  first  name?" 

"I— I— think  it  is  ' Ferdinand,'  "  Ralph  said. 
He  tried  to  speak  lightly. 

"Do  you  know  Mrs.  Price?"  was  the  next 
question. 

"I  have  met  her— that  is— yes,  I  know  her," 
he  stammered. 

"And" — she  hesitated  only  a  moment — 
"Tom  knows  her,  doesn't  he?" 


92  In  the  Web  of  Life 

"I  think  he  does,"  he  admitted. 

The  girl  looked  at  him  so  suddenly  that  for 
the  second  time  he  started  nervously. 

"Why  not  tell  me  the  truth?"  she  demanded. 
1 '  Why  shield  Tom  ?  He  knows  her,  doesn  't  he  ? ' ' 

"Yes,"  the  man  muttered. 

"And  he  has  been  with  her  in  Baltimore, 
hasn't  he?" 

"Edith!"  protested  Ralph.  "This  is  not 
fair!" 

"No,"  she  replied,  "not  fair  to  question  you 
about  him — nor  is  it  necessary — for  I  know  all 
about  it." 

She  said  no  more,  and  her  companion  stood 
wondering.  At  last  she  raised  her  eyes  again 
to  him,  and  there  was  a  hard  glint  in  their 
brown  depths. 

"People  are  saying  that  I  am  engaged  to 
Tom,"  she  hurried  on,  "and  that  he  has  not 
cared  to  be  here  to-night.  I  am  not  engaged  to 
him — do  you  hear?  I  want  you  to  say  that  to 
anyone  who  will  listen  to  it.  That's  all  I  ask 
of  you." 

The  dance  was  ended,  and  she  played  the  final 
notes  of  the  reel  with  a  dash  and  abandon  that 
brought  a  round  of  applause  from  the  breath- 


In  the  Web  of  Life  93 

less  and  panting  dancers.  Then,  as  she  rose 
from  the  piano  stool,  she  quickly  drew  the  tele- 
gram from  her  dress  and  slipped  it  into  Ralph's 
hand. 

"Read  that!"  she  ordered.  "It  was  tele- 
graphed to  your  house ;  your  mother  telephoned 
it  over.  Now  you  will  understand  how  I  know. ' ' 

A  moment  later  she  was  out  in  the  hall,  jest- 
ing with  her  father  and  mother,  and  telling 
them  that  they  were  the  "youngest-looking 
couple  in  the  entire  dance." 


Chapter  Seven 

Ealph  Morton  remained  standing  by  the 
piano  after  Edith  had  left  him.  His  back  was 
turned  to  the  hall  where  the  guests  and  hosts 
were  chatting  merrily.  Unfolding  the  message 
the  girl  had  handed  him,  he  read  and  re-read  it. 
He  was  mortified  when  he  noticed  that  his  hand 
trembled  as  he  held  the  slip  of  paper. 

"Your  cousin  brought  money.  F.  saw  him. 
Thinks  it  was  you.  Be  on  your  guard. 

"E.  P." 

And  Edith  had  seen  this !  He  gasped  in  con- 
sternation as  he  appreciated  this,  then  sighed 
with  relief  as  he  recalled  their  recent  conver- 
sation. How  fortunate  that  he  had  spoken  the 
truth !  He  had  acknowledged  that  "  E.  P. "  was 
Mrs.  Evelyn  Price,  and  that  he  knew  her ;  that 
her  husband's  name  was  Ferdinand. 

What  else  had  Edith  asked  him?  Oh,  yes — 
if  Tom  knew  Mrs.  Price.  He  did  not  blame 
himself  for  acknowledging  that  Tom  did  know 

94 


In  the  Web  of  Life  95 

her.  How  could  lie  have  been  truthful  and  said 
otherwise ! 

The  laughing  and  talking  in  the  hall  broke  in 
upon  his  musings.  He  felt,  as  Edith  had  felt 
less  than  an  hour  ago,  that  he  must  get  away 
from  all  these  people  for  a  while.  Glancing 
down  the  room,  he  saw  that  one  of  the  long 
French  windows  at  the  rear,  opening  upon  the 
veranda,  was  open.  He  strolled  toward  it  and 
stepped  from  the  brilliantly  lighted  interior  out 
into  the  dusk  of  the  spring  night. 

The  back  veranda  faced  the  orchard,  and  the 
soft  wind  wafted  to  him  the  odor  of  the  blos- 
soming fruit  trees.  The  moonlight  flooded  the 
lawns  and  made  the  place  look  like  fairyland. 

Even  Ralph  Morton,  absorbed  as  he  was  in 
thoughts  of  himself  and  his  own  schemes, 
paused  to  draw  in  a  long  breath  of  sweetness 
and  to  note  the  beauty  of  the  night.  Going 
down  the  steps,  he  began  to  walk  up  and  down 
the  asphalted  path  leading  out  toward  the  ga- 
rage. Here,  at  least,  he  could  be  quiet  and 
think. 

He  had  read  the  telegram  twice,  and  now  re- 
peated to  himself  every  phrase  of  it.  He  must 
be  sure  of  the  explanation  he  was  to  give  to 


96  In  the  Web  of  Life 

Edith.  What  about  the  money?  How  could 
he  explain  the  clause  about  that?  How  could 
he  tell  her  that  he  had  borrowed  it  from  Mrs. 
Price  and  sent  Tom  to  return  it? 

An  idea  flashed  upon  him  so  suddenly  that  he 
came  to  an  abrupt  standstill.  Mrs.  Price  had 
not  intimated  that  the  money  had  come  from 
him.  She  had  simply  said  that  his  cousin  had 
brought  the  money.  Moreover,  the  money  was 
not  his,  but  Tom's — for  he  (Ralph)  had  not 
had  the  money  to  pay  the  debt,  so  Tom  had 
supplied  it. 

But  what  reason  could  he  give  for  Evelyn's 
word  of  caution  to  himself?  Well,  he  could 
suggest  that  as  Mr.  Price  knew  neither  of  the 
cousins,  and  had  heard  his  wife  speak  of  hav- 
ing met  Ralph,  he  had  jumped  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  Tom  was  Ralph.  He  need  tell  only 
what  was  necessary.  He  could  even  claim  that 
he  had  no  right  to  pry  into  Tom's  affairs. 
Edith  would  be  too  proud  to  ask  many  ques- 
tions. Her  imagination  would  supply  details 
which  he  might  seem  to  hesitate  to  give.  The 
nature  of  the  case  would  make  her  shrink  from 
too  close  investigation,  and  she  would  attribute 
any  silence  on  his  part  to  loyalty  to  Tom. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  97 

Loyalty  to  Tom!  For  a  moment  he  felt  a 
slight  qualm  of  conscience.  Then  he  quieted  it 
with  a  hot  indignation  at  Tom's  having  bun- 
gled the  whole  affair,  as  he  evidently  had  done. 
What  a  blunderer  Tom  was !  A  boy  of  fifteen 
could  have  managed  the  matter  better !  Ealph 
Morton  simulated  and  stimulated  resentment 
and  indignation  until  he  made  himself  believe 
that  he  felt  both. 

J.  Macdougall  Hay  speaks  of  conscience  as 
the  handcuff  to  bind  men  to  God.  Sometimes 
men  use  self-deception  or  self -justification  as  a 
key  to  unlock  the  handcuff.  Ralph  Morton  had 
little  trouble  in  doing  this.  He  had  used  the 
key  so  often  that  he  found  it  easy  to  insert  it 
into  the  lock  for  which  he  needed  it  to-night. 

With  a  thrill  of  self -congratulation  he  turned 
and  started  toward  the  house.  Entering  by  the 
window  by  which  he  had  gone  out,  he  traversed 
the  drawing  room  and  reached  the  hall  as  the 
guests  were  making  a  move  toward  departure. 
Several  motor  cars  were  drawn  up  in  front  of 
the  house.  The  girls  were  starting  up  to  the 
dressing  room  to  don  their  wraps. 

"I  have  just  been  out  in  the  garden  for  a  few 
puffs  at  a  cigarette,"  Ralph  remarked  to  his 


98  In  the  Web  of  Life 

host.  "  It  is  a  heavenly  night. ' '  Perhaps  some- 
one had  seen  him  go  out.  It  was  well  to  tell  the 
truth  when  one  could  do  so  with  safety. 

"Indeed,  it  is  a  fine  night, "  remarked  Mr. 
Hale,  looking  out  of  the  open  front  door. 
"There  is  a  glorious  moon,"  he  called  back  as 
he  stepped  out  upon  the  porch.  "You  fellows 
inside  are  missing  it." 

All  the  men  except  Ralph  followed  him. 
Edith  spoke  to  Constance  in  a  low  voice :  "Will 
you  go  upstairs  to  the  dressing  room  with  the 
girls?"  she  asked.  "If  so,  I  will  stay  down 
here." 

"Certainly,"  agreed  Constance,  joining  the 
group  on  the  stairs. 

Mrs.  Hale  had  gone  to  the  rear  of  the  house 
to  give  some  forgotten  order  for  the  morning, 
and  Ralph  and  Edith  were  thus  left  alone.  The 
girl  laid  a  trembling  hand  on  the  man's  arm. 

"You  read  the  telegram!"  she  asked. 

He  covered  her  hand  with  his  own,  holding 
hers  close.  "Yes,  dear,"  he  replied.  "I  am 
sorry  you  should  have  seen  it." 

"I  am  not,"  she  said.  "I  knew  there  were 
men — who  were  not  good — and  that  there  were 
women  like  the  one  that " 


In  the  Web  of  Life  99 

She  paused,  covering  her  eyes  with  her  free 
hand.  "Oh,"  she  shuddered,  "such  things 
make  me  hate  life ! ' ' 

"But,  Edith,"  he  suggested,  "you  don't  un- 
derstand the  telegram." 

She  dropped  her  hand  from  her  eyes  and 
faced  him,  her  lips  trembling. 

"Listen,"  she  said,  trying  to  steady  her 
voice,  "I  understand  enough  to  know  that  Tom 
has  done  something  about  which  I  don't  want 
to  hear;  that  he  used  your  name  for  a  shield, 
and  that  the — the  woman — even  though  she  is 
bad,  warned  you  of  this.  Probably  she  and 
Tom  have  quarreled — perhaps  because  of  his 
engagement.  Perhaps  he  has  tried  to  buy  her 
off.  Oh" — snatching  her  hand  from  his  clasp, 
and  twisting  her  fingers  together  in  an  agony 
of  mortification— "the  shame  of  it  all!  That  I 
should  have  trusted  him !  What  will  the  people 
who  are  saying  that  I  am  engaged  to  him  think 
now  if  they  learn — 

She  paused,  for  the  girls  were  coming  along 
the  upper  hall  toward  the  stairs. 

"Why  not  let  them  think,"  the  man  said  hur- 
riedly and  softly,  "that  you  are  engaged  to  me? 
Why  not,  darling?" 


IOO  In  the  Web  of  Life 

When  the  significance  of  Ealph  Morton's  un- 
expected proposition  broke  upon  Edith  Hale's 
mind,  all  the  color  left  her  face. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  gasped. 

He  glanced  apprehensively  toward  the  stair- 
case, but  the  girls  had  paused  in  the  upper  hall 
to  wait  for  one  of  their  group.  He  heard  one 
of  them  call  out,  "Come  along,  Emily!  We're 
waiting  for  you,"  and  the  reply:  "I'm  coming 
in  a  minute — just  as  soon  as  I  can  arrange  this 
pesky  scarf  over  my  head!" 

Ealph  spoke  hurriedly:  "I  mean  that  I  love 
you,  Edith.  You  know  I  do.  You  may  not 
think  you  love  me,  but  I  will  be  willing  to  wait 
until  you  do.  I  cannot  expect  that  you  care 
for  me  yet  as  much  as  you  have  cared  for 
Tom." 

He  had  chosen  his  words  cleverly,  and  the 
girl  threw  back  her  head  with  a  disdainful  ges- 
ture. "Tom!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  never 
want  to  hear  his  name  again!  I  never  loved 
him,  although  I  was  so  foolish  as  to  think  I  did. 
Now  I  hate  him ! ' ' 

"You  don't  hate  me,  dear,"  Ealph  reminded 
her.  "Give  me  a  trial,  Edith.  I  don't  ask  you 
to  love  me  now.  You  may  banish  me  later  if 


In  the  Web  of  Life  101 

you  like.  But,  dearest,  I  love  you  so  much  that 
I  want  to  put  myself  at  your  service.  If  peo- 
ple are  gossiping  about  your  engagement  to 
Tom,  say  you  are  engaged  to  me. ' ' 

"But  I'm  not!"  she  whispered  tremulously. 

"You  are  if  you  say  you  are,"  he  urged. 
"You  can  break  your  engagement  as  soon  as 
you  want  to,  and  have  it  known  that  you  broke 
it.  But,  dear,  use  me  as  a  shield  now." 

She  caught  her  breath  sharply.  "As  Tom 
did!"  she  sneered. 

"Edith!"  the  man  exclaimed.  "Do  not  put 
yourself  in  such  a  category!  No,  not  as  Tom 
did,  but  as  you,  the  woman  I  love,  have  a  right 
to  do — to  honor  me  by  shielding  yourself  from 
gossip  by  using  my  name." 

"How  good  you  are!"  she  said. 

The  girls  were  coming  to  the  head  of  the 
stairs.  He  held  her  hands  in  his  for  a  moment. 
"Will  you  be  engaged  to  me,  darling?"  he 
asked  eagerly. 

His  face  was  white,  his  eyes  burning.  Her 
own  eyes  fell  before  his  gaze.  "Yes,"  she 
whispered. 

He  raised  her  hands  to  his  lips.  Nor  did  he 
hurry  the  action.  All  need  of  haste  was  past 


IO2  In  the  Web  of  Life 

now.  He  did  not  care  if  he  and  Edith  were  seen 
in  their  present  attitude.  "Darling!"  he  mur- 
mured. 

Beatrice  Craig,  leading  the  bevy  of  girls  com- 
ing down  from  the  dressing  room,  stopped  short 
on  the  stairs. 

"Oh,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  giggle,  "I  fear 
we  intrude!" 

Edith  snatched  her  hands  from  Ealph's 
grasp,  a  flood  of  crimson  color  flowing  over  her 
face  and  neck.  Beatrice  ran  swiftly  down  the 
stairs  and  threw  her  arms  about  the  blushing 
girl,  laughing  loudly  as  she  did  so. 

"Oh!"  she  gushed.  "You  need  not  look  so 
ashamed — even  if  you  have  surprised  us  all !  I 
thought  all  the  time  that  it  was  Tom !  Now  I 
understand  why  he  was  not  here  to-night. ' ' 

"Hush!"  Edith  begged,  glancing  nervously 
at  the  others,  who  had  heard  only  a  part  of 
Beatrice's  speech. 

Beatrice  lowered  her  voice,  but  repeated  her 
remark:  "I  thought  it  was  Tom — and  so  did 
everybody  else ! ' ' 

"Well,  you  see,"  said  Edith  gravely,  "every- 
body was  mistaken." 


In  the  Web  of  Life  103 

The  gossip  held  out  her  hand  to  Ealph.  "My 
warmest  congratulations!"  she  giggled. 

"Please,  Beatrice,"  Edith  pleaded,  "don't 
talk  about  it  now!" 

"What's  all  this  secrecy  about?"  the  other 
girls  demanded  teasingly,  gathering  about 
Edith  and  Ralph. 

"About  nothing!"  Edith  declared,  pulling 
away  from  them  and  running  to  the  front  door. 
Here  she  paused  and  looked  back,  her  face  sud- 
denly serious.  "If  you  girls  are  my  friends," 
she  said  in  tense  tones,  "you  won't  ask  me  any 
more  questions." 

"All  right!"  Beatrice  agreed,  while  those 
who  had  not  fully  comprehended  the  situation 
looked  puzzled.  Before  further  comment  could 
be  made,  Edith  had  stepped  out  upon  the  ve- 
randa, calling  gayly : 

"Where  are  you  ungallant  men  when  your 
ladies  are  waiting  here  for  you  to  escort  them 
home?" 

"We're  all  coming  in  now,"  Mr.  Hale  an- 
swered from  the  end  of  the  veranda.  "We've 
just  been  gazing  at  the  old  moon  up  there." 

He  was  standing  near  his  daughter  when 
Beatrice  Craig  bade  her  good-night.  "It's  been 


IO4  In  the  Web  of  Life 

a  lovely  affair,  Edith, ' '  she  said, ' '  and  I  do  hope 
you  are  always  going  to  be  as  happy  as  you  are 
to-night." 

"Thank  you!"  Edith  rejoined  faintly. 

"And,  as  for  you,"  Beatrice  said,  turning  to 
Ealph,  "you  are  a  mighty  lucky  man !" 

John  Hale  started  violently.  He  stepped  for- 
ward, as  if  to  speak,  then  checked  himself. 
Edith,  noting  this,  acted  quickly.  It  would  not 
do  for  Ealph  to  be  here  when  her  father  asked 
her  the  question  that  she  knew  would  be  sure 
to  come. 

"Ealph,"  she  suggested,  "I  wish  you  would 
take  Beatrice  home.  I  don't  like  her  to  go 
alone." 

"But,"  protested  Emily  Bruce,  one  of  the 
guests,  "as  Beatrice  is  spending  the  night  with 
me,  I  am  going  to  take  her  in  my  motor." 

"Nevertheless,  Miss  Bruce,"  Ealph  inter- 
posed, "there  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not 
ride  with  you  two  young  ladies  to  your  destina- 
tion." 

The  last  guest  had  gone,  and  Edith  turned  to 
Constance  as  she  entered  the  house.  "Connie," 
she  said,  "I'm  going  to  bed.  I'm  fearfully 
tired." 


In  the  Web  of  Life  105 

"Yes,  dearie,  do  go  to  bed,"  Mrs.  Hale  urged. 

John  Hale  looked  into  his  daughter's  eyes  as 
she  returned  his  good-night  kiss.  "Child,"  he 
asked,  "what  did  Miss  Craig  mean  by  her 
speech  to  you  just  now?  Does  she  know  that 
you  are  engaged  to  Tom?" 

The  girl  flung  out  her  arms  with  a  movement 
of  passionate  weariness. 

"No!"  she  exclaimed.  "Because  I  am  not 
engaged  -to  Tom — and — you  may  as  well  know 
it  now — I  am  engaged  to  Ealph  Morton ! ' ' 

It  was  well  on  toward  morning,  and  Con- 
stance Medford  was  not  asleep.  Indeed,  she 
had  not  gone  to  bed  until  after  two  o'clock. 
Now,  lying  in  the  dusky  room,  she  went  over  in 
her  mind  the  events  of  the  past  two  hours.  All 
the  evening  she  had  been  vaguely  uneasy,  and, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  had  told  herself 
that  she  was  foolishly  anxious,  she  had  not  been 
able  to  free  herself  of  the  consciousness  that 
Edith  was  unhappy  and  that  Ealph  was  watch- 
ing her.  She,  Constance,  was  scarcely  sur- 
prised by  the  glimpse  she  had  of  the  pair  as 
she  and  the  other  girls  came  in  sight  of  the 
lower  hall  in  descending  from  the  dressing 


io6  In  the  Web  of  Life 

room.  She  had  not  joined  in  the  exclamations 
with  which  Beatrice  Craig  had  called  attention 
to  the  tableau.  Her  very  heart  was  sick,  for 
she  remembered  Tom  Morton. 

And  through  the  painful  scene  that  followed 
the  departure  of  the  guests  she  had  remem- 
bered him.  John  Hale  had  not  been  harsh  with 
his  daughter,  but  he  was  pale  and  shaken  as 
Edith  repeated  the  telegraphed  message  that 
had  come  for  Ralph. 

"I  cannot  believe  that  Tom  can  have  done 
anything  dishonorable,"  the  father  had  de- 
clared, when  the  girl  voiced  her  doubts.  *  *  Just 
because  he  has  been  detained  by  unexpected 
business  is  no  reason  for  suspecting  the  man 
who  loves  you." 

There  was  a  look  of  reproach  in  his  kind 
eyes,  and  Edith  saw  it.  It  may  have  been  this 
that  moved  her  to  tell  him  of  the  telegram.  She 
flushed  and  stammered  in  doing  this,  and  John 
Hale  stood  stunned  and  silent  as  she  talked. 

"I  don't  understand  it,"  he  muttered  at  last. 
"Have  you  that  telegram  now?" 

"No,  father,"  she  replied.  "I  gave  it  to — 
Ralph.  It  was  his." 

Here  Mrs.  Hale  had  broken  in  upon  the  con- 


In  the  Web  of  Life  107 

versation  with  a  query  that  was  so  characteris- 
tic of  her  gentle  and  romantic  temperament  that 
Constance,  even  in  her  distress,  almost  smiled. 

1 1  Edith,  darling, ' '  the  mother  had  asked, ' '  the 
only  really  important  thing  is — Do  you  love 
Ealph  ?  For,  of  course,  you  must  love  him 
dearly  to  be  engaged  to  him." 

The  girl  looked  at  her  mother  dully.  *  *  I  don 't 
know,"  she  said  slowly,  " whether  I  love  him 
much  or  not.  But  I  don't  love  Tom  any  more. 
And  Tom  doesn't  love  me — and  Ealph  does." 

"But  Tom  does  love  you!"  exclaimed  the 
mother.  "And  he  is  such  a  dear,  good  man!" 

"Good!"  Edith  ejaculated  scornfully. 
"Would  a  good  man  have  paid  money  to  a 
married  woman,  and,  when  her  husband  saw 
him,  pretend  that  he  was  another  person, 
and  that  person  his  own  cousin  and  friend?  Is 
that  being  good?  If  so,  Heaven  deliver  me 
from  good  men!" 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  began  to  walk 
up  and  down  the  room,  her  hands  clenched. 

"Dear,"  her  father  said,  "I  know  all  this 
looks  very  black,  but  until  I  see  the  telegram 
myself  I  cannot  believe  that  there  is  not  some 
mistake.  Perhaps  Ealph 's  mother  did  not  get 


io8  In  the  Web  of  Life 

the  message  straight.  I  must  have  him  go  to 
the  office  and  bring  me  the  original. ' ' 

The  girl  shuddered.  "Oh,  daddy,"  she 
wailed,  "what  is  the  use  of  raking  up  all  this 
horrible,  disgusting  Baltimore  affair!  Isn't  it 
bad  enough  as  it  is  f " 

But  her  father  was  firm.  He  would  sift  this 
matter  out,  and  she  must  let  him  tell  her  all  that 
he  learned.  It  was  a  serious  thing,  he  said,  to 
condemn  a  man  unheard.  Tom  should  have  a 
chance  to  speak  for  himself,  to  explain  his  ac- 
tions. 

As  she  listened,  Constance  found  her  heart 
warming  more  than  ever  to  her  uncle.  He  knew 
Tom,  he  appreciated  how  impossible  it  would 
be  for  a  man  like  Tom  Morton  to  be  guilty  of 
the  evil  of  which  he  was  accused,  of  which  Ealph 
had  allowed  him  to  be  accused.  Her  anger  rose 
as  she  appreciated  Ralph's  attitude  in  this  mat- 
ter. How  dared  he  take  advantage  of  Tom's 
absence  and  of  Edith's  misery  to  make  love  to 
the  girl? 

Mrs.  Hale  went  to  her  child  and  put  her 
arms  about  her.  "Darling,"  she  pleaded, 
' '  come  upstairs  with  me  and  go  to  bed ! ' ' 

Without  another  word,  Edith  obeyed,   and 


In  the  Web  of  Life  109 

John  Hale  and  Ms  wife 's  niece  were  left  down- 
stairs alone.  As  the  perplexed  father  turned 
to  his  companion  he  noted  her  clear  gray  eyes, 
her  clean-cut,  intellectual  profile,  and  drew  a 
breath  that  sounded  like  an  expression  of  re- 
lief. 

"What  do  you  think,  girlie?"  he  asked. 

She  answered  him  frankly:  "I  don't  know 
just  what  to  think,  uncle.  But  there  is  one 
thing  I  am  sure  of:  Tom  Morton  is  a  good 
man. ' ' 

John  Hale  held  out  his  hand  to  her.  l '  Thank 
you!"  he  said  simply.  "You  are  a  great  com- 
fort to  me,  child.  I  don't  want  my  little  girl  to 
marry  Ralph  Morton.  I  don't  entirely" — he 
hesitated,  then  continued — "I  don't  entirely  ap- 
prove of  him,  though,  of  course,  he  is  only  what 
any  spoiled  son  of  a  widowed  mother  might 
be." 

Lying  awake  now,  she  remembered  his  pause. 
Was  he  going  to  say:  "I  do  not  entirely  trust 
him,"  and  had  checked  himself?  If  so,  he  and 
Constance  felt  alike. 

She  had  spoken  nothing  of  this  when  her 
cousin  asked  her  to  come  and  sit  by  her  for  a 
while.  "I  think  I  can  sleep,"  Edith  said,  "if 


no  In  the  Web  of  Life 

you  sit  here  on  the  bed  by  me  and  stroke  my 
forehead." 

So  for  an  hour  Constance  Medford  sat  strok- 
ing the  nervous  sufferer's  forehead.  At  last, 
when  the  longed-for  sleep  had  come  to  the 
daughter  of  the  house,  the  orphan  crept  off  to 
her  own  room  and  to  bed.  But  the  last  thing 
she  did  before  she  slept  was  to  kneel  down  and 
send  up  a  little  prayer  for  Tom.  She  wished 
that  he,  in  his  lonely  apartment  in  New  York, 
could  know  that  she  was  thinking  of  him  and 
trusting  him.  Then,  as  she  found  herself  wish- 
ing this,  she  blushed  in  the  dark  and  called  her- 
self a  silly  fool  who  was  meddling  in  some- 
thing that  was  none  of  her  business. 

She  tried  to  believe  that  it  was  only  interest 
in  her  cousin  that  made  her  so  sorry  for  Tom 
Morton. 


Chapter  Eight 

Ealph  Morton  would  have  denied  the  accu- 
sation that  he  was  past  master  in  the  art  of 
self-deception.  Indeed,  he  had  reached  the 
point  where  he  was  so  completely  self-deceived 
that  it  was  not  difficult  for  him  to  believe  that 
he  dealt  honestly  with  himself.  Therefore,  he 
had  not  acknowledged  to  his  own  soul  that  his 
feeling  for  Edith  was  partly  admiration  of  her 
beauty,  and  affection  of  a  sort,  mingled  with  a 
desire  for  the  good  things  of  this  world  for 
which  she  stood.  Yet  away  back  in  his  mind 
was  always  the  consciousness  that  she  was  the 
only  child  of  a  rich  man. 

When  Tom  had  told  Ealph  of  his  engagement, 
the  younger  man  had  congratulated  his  cousin, 
but  later  he  had  smiled  cynically  in  remember- 
ing that ' '  Tom  had  been  foxy  enough  to  feather 
his  own  nest  well."  The  mixed  metaphor  did 
not  disturb  him.  He  was  thinking  of  what  he 
considered  Tom's  inconsistencies — not  his  own. 

So  to-night,  while  he  chatted  with  the  two 
girls  whom  he  was  escorting  home,  he  was 
in 


112  In  the  Web  of  Life 

aware  of  a  subtle  feeling  of  triumph.  He 
laughed  at  all  the  teasing  remarks  of  his  com- 
panions, although  he  refused  with  mock  gravity 
to  say  anything  about  the  bit  of  news  of  which 
Beatrice  made  much.  Yet  so  merrily  did  he  de- 
cline to  discuss  the  subject  that  he  left  the 
girls  in  an  uncertain  state  of  mind  as  to  just 
how  much  was  true  with  regard  to  his  engage- 
ment to  Edith  and  whether  or  not  they  might 
pass  on  the  interesting  bit  of  information. 

When  they  reached  the  Bruce  house  Ralph 
Morton  sprang  out  of  the  automobile  and  as- 
sisted his  companions  to  alight;  then,  after 
escorting  them  up  the  steps  to  the  front  door, 
held  out  his  hand  to  say  good-night. 

1  'But,"  Emily  Bruce  protested,  "you  must 
let  my  man  take  you  home,  Mr.  Morton.  You 
are  a  mile  away  from  your  own  house." 

"Thank  you  ever  so  much,"  he  replied,  "but 
really  I  want  to  take  a  walk  in  this  wonderful 
moonlight.  I  shall  sleep  better  for  doing  so." 

He  was  glad  to  be  alone  again  as  he  strode 
along  the  asphalted  road  stretching  between  the 
Bruce  estate  and  his  mother's  place.  He  had 
much  to  think  of.  He  could  hardly  believe  in 
his  own  good  fortune.  Here,  after  all  these 


In  the  Web  of  Life  113 

years  in  which  he  had  thought  of  marriage  with 
Edith  Hale  as  the  culmination  of  his  dreams  of 
happiness  and  comfort — years  which  had 
brought  about  at  last  the  engagement  of  his 
cousin  to  the  woman  for  whom  he — Ralph — 
longed — here  he  was  at  last  the  betrothed  of 
the  one  girl  in  all  the  world  whom  he  wished  to 
marry ! 

Had  not  Fate  played  into  his  hand,  and  had 
he  not  played  his  own  cards  well  I 

The  figure  reminded  him  with  a  disagreeable 
jar  of  his  last  game  of  cards ;  of  the  money  he 
had  lost  and  of  Tom's  having  paid  his  debt  for 
Mm.  The  reminder  was  not  an  agreeable  one, 
and  he  determined  that  he  would  refund  that 
money  at  once. 

He  gnawed  the  end  of  his  mustache  as  he  con- 
sidered how  little  ready  money  he  had  at  his 
command.  His  mother,  though  an  invalid,  had 
never  laid  down  the  reins  of  power.  She  was 
not  rich,  and  while  she  was  perfectly  willing  to 
give  Ealph  such  funds  as  he  told  her  he  needed, 
she  would  not  let  him  manage  her  moderate  in- 
come. She  did  not  live  extravagantly  herself, 
yet  she  had  brought  up  her  son  in  comfort  and 
luxury. 


114  In  the  Web  of  Life 

John  Hale  had  been  right  in  saying  that 
Ealph  "played  at  law."  There  was  always 
some  excuse  for  his  not  working  hard — an  ex- 
ciise  which  his  fond  parent  was  ever  ready  to 
accept,  for  she  liked  to  keep  her  boy  at  home 
and  near  her.  She  had  given  him,  last  year, 
an  automobile  runabout,  and  since  he  had 
owned  this  he  had  gone  to  his  office  more  sel- 
dom than  before.  When  he  expressed  a  wish 
for  anything,  she  would  ask  him  what  it  would 
cost,  then  give  him  the  money  with  which  to 
buy  it,  but  except  upon  the  many  occasions 
when  he  named  larger  sums  than  he  needed,  he 
had  no  money  of  his  own.  That  he  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  sacrifice  truth  when  talking  to  his 
mother  was  due  the  fact  that  he  sometimes  had 
funds  to  spend  in  ways  of  which  she  would  have 
disapproved. 

To  have  money  doled  out  to  him  as  he  needs 
it  by  any  woman — be  she  mother  or  wife — 
weakens  the  ambition  and  lessens  the  self-re- 
spect of  any  man  unless  he  be  exceptionally 
strong  and  independent.  Ealph  Morton  had 
reached  the  deplorable  state  where  he  did  not 
object  to  receiving  money  from  his  mother,  but 
accepted  it  as  his  due.  Would  it  not  all  come 


In  the  Web  of  Life  115 

to  him,  anyway,  when  she  died?  Therefore  he 
felt  under  no  especial  obligations  to  her.  She 
was  only  giving  hi™  in  advance  a  bit  of  that 
which  would  some  time  be  altogether  his  own. 

Now,  walking  along  the  deserted  streets  of 
Homewood,  he  appreciated  that  if  he  was  to 
pay  his  financial  debt  to  Tom  Morton  he  must 
invent  some  plausible  tale  to  tell  his  mother. 
He  was  pretty  sure  that  he  could  trust  his  ready 
wits  to  prompt  him  along  this  line. 

First  of  all,  he  would  surprise  her  by  the  an- 
nouncement of  his  engagement  to  Edith.  He 
knew,  of  course,  that  she  would  be  pleased.  He 
was  glad  to  think  of  this.  It  made  him  feel  self- 
satisfied  to  reflect  that  through  him  a  joy  was 
coming  into  her  life.  He  found  himself  eager 
to  talk  the  matter  over  with  her,  and  quickened 
his  pace  to  reach  home  sooner.  He  noticed  with 
a  thrill  of  pleasurable  anticipation  as  he  turned 
in  at  his  gate  that  there  was  a  light  still  burn- 
ing in  his  mother 's  room.  She  often  lay  in  bed 
and  read  until  toward  midnight.  She  evidently 
had  been  doing  this  to-night,  and  was,  there- 
fore, awake.  Perhaps  she  had  been  hoping  he 
would  come  home  in  time  to  talk  with  her  be- 
fore he  slept. 


Ii6  In  the  Web  of  Life 

Fitting  his  key  into  the  latch,  he  entered  the 
house  and  closed  the  door  softly  behind  him. 
But  he  had  not  been  so  quiet  that  his  mother 
had  not  heard  him. 

"Darling!"  she  called  from  her  room. 

"Yes,  mother!"  he  called  back  blithely. 

"I'm  awake  and  waiting  for  you,"  she  said. 
"Come  on  upstairs,  dearest." 

Ealph  ran  lightly  up  the  stairs  and  paused  in 
the  door  of  his  mother's  room.  Mrs.  Morton 
was  in  bed,  propped  up  among  her  pillows,  and 
she  greeted  her  son  with  a  smile. 

"You  haven't  been  lying  awake  worrying 
about  me,  I  hope,"  Ealph  said. 

Then  he  bent  down  and  kissed  her,  glancing 
approvingly  at  the  pretty  boudoir  jacket  she 
wore  over  her  night  dress  and  at  the  cap  with 
ribbons  to  match  the  jacket. 

"Gee!  how  sweet  you  look  all  frilled  up!"  he 
exclaimed.  "But  you  always  do  look  dainty 
and  pretty,  dear  mother  mine ! ' ' 

A  thrill  of  joy  brought  color  to  the  woman's 
pale  cheeks.  It  was  by  such  comments  and 
phrases  as  these  that  Ralph  Morton  made  his 
mother  ignore  his  lack  of  some  of  the  sterner 
virtues.  He  was  all  she  had,  and,  like  other 


In  the  Web  of  Life  117 

mothers  of  sons,  she  expanded  and  glowed  un- 
der his  expressions  of  admiration  and  affection. 
Many  a  man  cajoles  his  mother  by  such  tactics 
when  he  would  not  sacrifice  his  selfish  indul- 
gence to  buy  her  happiness.  One  is  sometimes 
forced  to  the  conclusion  that  the  proverbial 
blindness  of  a  girl  with  her  sweetheart  is  sur- 
passed by  the  credulity  of  a  mother  with  her 
only  son.  What  his  life  is  she  forgives  when 
he  lavishes  a  few  easy  caresses  and  endearing 
epithets  upon  her.  So  to-night  there  was  a 
light  of  happiness  in  the  invalid's  eyes  as  her 
son  took  his  seat  by  her  side  and  held  her  hand 
in  his. 

"Tell  me  about  the  dinner,"  she  urged.  "I 
stayed  awake  to  hear  all  about  it.  Was  there 
any  announcement  of  Edith's  engagement  to 
Tom?" 

Ralph  hesitated,  and  his  voice  trembled  when 
he  replied.  *  *  There  was  an  intimation  that  she 
is  engaged.  But  not  to  Tom,  mother.  Guess  to 
whom ! ' ' 

Her  eyes  widened  as  she  looked  into  his  face. 
"You  don't  mean,"  she  gasped — "not  to " 

"Yes!"  he  interrupted,  laughing  excitedly, 
"I  do  mean  just  that,  mother  mine — to  me — me 


Ii8  In  the  Web  of  Life 

— the  man  who  has  loved  her  all  these  years! 
Oh,  my  dear,  I  can't  believe  in  my  own  good 
fortune  I" 

"Thank  God!"  his  mother  breathed.  "She 
is  a  sweet  girl,  Ealph. '  *  She  paused,  musing  a 
moment  before  she  spoke  again.  "And  to  think 
it  is  you  she  loves,  and  not  Tom ! ' '  she  said  at 
last.  "Oh,  my  boy,  I  am  so  glad!  Tell  me  all 
about  it." 

The  pair  talked  for  an  hour,  Ealph  giving  his 
own  version  of  the  affair.  Of  course,  he  said, 
Edith  must  have  cared  for  him  all  along,  or 
she  would  not  have  been  suspicious  of  Tom's 
absence  from  home.  Ealph  preferred,  he 
averred,  not  to  go  too  deeply  into  that  matter, 
for  he  was  sorry  for  poor  old  Tom,  whom  he 
was  fond  of  in  spite  of  some  things  that  were 
hard  to  explain. 

And  then,  tactfully,  he  intimated  that  under 
the  circumstances  he  would  like  to  hand  over  a 
little  money  to  Tom — to  settle  a  small  business 
transaction  between  himself  and  his  cousin — 
and  if  his  mother  did  not  mind  he  would  rather 
not  particularize  about  this,  either.  It  would 
not  be  quite  fair  to  Tom  to  do  so.  But  now  that 
he,  Ealph,  was  so  happy  it  was  only  natural 


In  the  Web  of  Life  119 

that  he  should  long  to  do  the  square  thing  by 
Tom. 

His  mother  praised  him  for  this  feeling,  and 
loved  him  the  better  for  it.  Yet  why  should 
Tom,  who  had  a  good  business,  need  jnoney? 
Still,  she  would  ask  no  questions,  since  Ealph 
urged  her  not  to.  She  would  give  him  a  check 
for  the  sum  he  suggested.  He  was  always  her 
dear,  fine,  noble  son! 

Ealph  Morton's  mother  had  told  him  this  so 
often  that  he  was  almost  convinced  that  he  was 
all  she  declared  him  to  be. 

It  was  when  he  was  on  his  feet,  telling  her 
good-night,  that  she  spoke  out  the  thought  that 
had  been  in  her  mind,  as  it  had  been  in  Ealph 's, 
during  all  their  conversation.  She  expressed  it 
gently,  hesitatingly: 

"Yes,  as  I  said,  Edith  is  a  sweet  girl.  And, 
darling,  it  gives  me  a  sensation  of  peace  to  re- 
member that  she  is  not  a  poor  girl.  It  is  so 
hard  for  young  people  to  begin  life  without  a 
margin  to  work  on." 

"For  her  sake,  I  am  glad  she  has  money," 
Ealph  admitted.  "Although,  I  assure  you, 
mother,  the  thought  of  her  father's  wealth  has 
not  entered  my  mind.  I  should  love  her  and 


120  In  the  Web  of  Life 

long  to  marry  her  if  she  were  penniless.  Of 
course  I  would  never  touch  a  cent  of  her  money 
anyway." 

"Of  course  not,"  rejoined  the  mother. 

Parent  and  son  told  themselves  that  they 
were  speaking  the  truth.  Yet  in  the  heart  of 
each  was  the  consciousness — though  unacknowl- 
edged— that  neither  was  really  deceiving  the 
other.  It  is  sometimes  easier  to  deceive  one's 
self  than  the  person  with  whom  one  is  talking. 

Still,  Mrs.  Morton  was  certain  that  Ralph 
was  a  dear,  self-sacrificing  fellow,  who  was  try- 
ing to  get  Tom  out  of  some  scrape  into  which 
he  had  been  led  through  lack  of  principle.  It 
was  too  bad  that  Tom  had  not  a  stronger  will. 
What  could  he  have  done  to  be  in  such  need  of 
ready  money?  Well,  it  was  none  of  her  busi- 
ness, and  Ealph  had  requested  her  not  to  pry 
into  the  affair.  She  would  do  as  he  said — he 
was  so  good.  She  was  glad  that  poor,  erring 
Tom  had  no  mother  to  grieve  over  him. 

As  she  fell  asleep  there  was  on  her  lips  the 
prayer  uttered  by  many  another  mother  of  an 
only  son— a  prayer  constructed  along  the  lines 
of  the  Pharisaical  exclamation  quoted  two 


In  the  Web  of  Life  121 

thousand  years  ago:  "Lord,  I  thank  Thee  that 
my  son  is  not  as  other  sons  are ! ' ' 

There  was  no  prayer  on  Ralph  Morton's  lips 
that  night,  but  instead  there  was  a  smile  of  self- 
satisfaction.  Things  were  at  last  coming  his 
way! 

Down  in  New  York,  Tom  Morton  was  striving 
to  forget  his  worries  in  slumber.  He  would 
surely  get  a  letter  from  Edith  in  the  morning. 

"Of  course  she  will  trust  me,"  he  muttered. 

Then  memory  of  the  vexation  she  had  felt 
when  he  last  telephoned  her  stabbed  him.  All 
girls  were  inclined  to  be  suspicious,  he  sup- 
posed. Suddenly,  as  if  in  refutation  of  his 
cynical  supposition,  there  arose  before  his 
mind's  eye  the  face  of  Constance  Medford — the 
sweet,  yet  firm  mouth,  the  grave,  earnest  eyes, 
the  waves  of  soft  brown  hair,  and  he  was 
ashamed  of  his  pessimism.  The  thought  of  her 
calmed  him,  and  he  found  himself  floating  off 
into  the  land  of  dreams. 

So,  after  all,  Constance  was  his  last  waking 
thought  on  this  May  night,  as  he  was  hers.  Per- 
haps there  is  more  in  telepathy  than  some  scoff- 
ers acknowledge. 


Chapter  Nme 

"It's  all  de  mail  what's  came,  suh." 

Washington,  Tom  Morton's  nineteen-year- 
old  colored  boy-of-all-work,  said  the  words  re- 
gretfully as  he  laid  sundry  uninteresting-look- 
ing envelopes  beside  his  master's  plate  at  the 
breakfast  table.  Tom  spoke  with  an  indiffer- 
ence which  he  was  far  from  feeling. 

"That's  all  right,  Wash.  Bring  in  my  cof- 
fee, please." 

The  colored  boy  shook  his  head  as  he  went 
into  the  tiny  kitchen  and  poured  out  the  steam- 
ing beverage.  "I'm  right  sartain,"  he  mused, 
"dat  Mr.  Mo 'ton  ain't  ben  goin'  out  to  dat 
Homewood  place  so  much  all  dese  weeks  jest 
for  de  good  ob  his  hailth.  An'  I  sure  did  'spect 
dat  dere  would  be  a  letter  in  a  lady's  han'- 
writin'  fur  him  dis  mornin'.  I'm  mighty  sorry 
dare  ain't!" 

When    alone,    Washington   allowed   himself 

liberty  of  thought  and  whispered  mutterings 

in  the  dialect  of  his  race.    When,  however,  he 

spoke  to  a  white  person,  he  aped  the  bearing 

122 


In  the  Web  of  Life  123 

and  language  of  his  master  in  a  way  that 
brought  a  smile  to  the  lips  of  that  master's 
friends.  The  negro  is  a  marvelous  mimic  and 
copies  the  manners  of  a  beloved  employer  with 
an  ease  and  enjoyment  that  are  amusing. 

This  lad  was  genuinely  fond  of  Tom  Morton, 
and  served  him  faithfully.  He  had  an  easy 
berth,  and  he  knew  it.  He  likewise  rejoiced 
with  great  rejoicing  in  the  cast-off  ties  and 
clothing  that  reverted  to  him.  His  only  criti- 
cism of  "Mr.  Mo 'ton's  taste"  was  that  his 
neckties  and  vests  were  "too  quiet-colored." 

This  morning  he  was  much  concerned  over 
the  fact  that  his  master  seemed  more  thought- 
ful than  usual  and  had  even  forgotten  to  com- 
ment on  the  excellency  of  the  omelet,  which  was 
a  golden  puff  to  the  eyes  and  delectable  to  the 
palate.  Was  it  business  or  love  that  was  in- 
terfering with  his  employer's  appetite?  he  won- 
dered. At  last,  he  summoned  courage  to  ex- 
press his  solicitude. 

"  'Scuse  me,  suh,"  he  said  respectfully,  as 
Tom  folded  his  napkin  and  arose  from  his  chair, 
"but  I  hope  you  are  not  feelin'  poorly  this 
mornin'.  You  don't  seem  to  have  no  appetite, 
suh." 


124  IH  *he  Web  of  Life 

Tom  smiled  kindly.  "I  am  feeling  perfectly 
well,  thank  you,  Wash,"  he  assured  his  attend- 
ant. "But  I  had  a  tiresome  journey  yesterday, 
and  I  did  not  sleep  until  late  last  night — so  per- 
haps I  am  not  quite  as  hungry  as  usual.  A 
brisk  walk  will  set  me  up  all  right. ' ' 

"Are  you  dinin'  at  home  this  evenin',  suh?" 
asked  the  servant. 

Morton  hesitated.  He  longed  to  be  able  to 
say  that  he  would  not  be  at  home,  for  that 
would  mean  that  Edith  had  summoned  him  to 
Homewood. 

"No — yes — that  is — I  don't  know  yet,"  he  re- 
plied vaguely.  '  *  Much  depends  on  what  mail  I 
find  at  my  office.  I'll  phone  you  later  in  the 
day  and  tell  you." 

"Yes,  suh." 

"And,  Wash,  if  any  message  comes  for  me, 
be  sure  to  call  me  up  and  deliver  it  just  as  you 
receive  it.  Understand?" 

"Yes,  suh.    Good  mornin',  suh!" 

The  sunshine  of  yesterday  had  given  way  to 
a  raw  mist  that  made  Tom  shiver  slightly  as  he 
reached  the  street.  It  was  not  the  kind  of 
weather  to  tempt  one  to  take  the  brisk  walk  of 
which  he  had  just  spoken,  and  he  pretended  that 


In  the  Web  of  Life  12$ 

this  was  the  reason  that  he  turned  his  steps  im- 
mediately toward  the  subway  station. 

In  reality,  he  knew  that  he  was  hurrying 
down  to  his  office  in  the  hope  that  there  he 
might  find  some  communication  from  Edith. 
Perhaps  she  had  written,  addressing  him  there 
instead  of  at  his  apartment.  Yet — she  had 
never  done  that  before. 

He  tried  to  read  his  newspaper  on  the  train, 
holding  the  sheet  in  one  hand  and  hanging  on 
to  the  strap  with  the  other,  swaying  backward 
and  forward  with  scores  of  other  men  all  going 
forth  with  the  same  aim  at  heart  or  in  mind — 
that  of  making  a  living  for  themselves  or  for 
those  dependent  upon  them. 

It  is  a  mighty  army — this  that  throngs  sub- 
way, elevated  and  surface  cars  morning  and 
evening.  We  are  so  accustomed  to  seeing  it 
that  we  are  not  as  much  interested  in  its  per- 
sonnel as  in  the  soldiers  who  march  in  a  holi- 
day parade.  But  many  of  these  unremarkable 
civilians  are  as  valiant  heroes  as  those  who 
wear  a  national  uniform,  while  the  women  who 
are  crowded  into  conveyances  with  them  may 
be  as  brave  and  self-sacrificing  as  the  Florence 
Nightingales  and  Clara  Bartons  of  the  world. 


I26  In  the  Web  of  Life 

The  greatest  fights  of  life,  the  greatest  vic- 
tories of  the  spirit,  are  not  always  fought  and 
won  on  famous  battlefields. 

Tom  Morton  thought  of  this  to-day  as  he 
found  himself  unable  to  fix  his  attention  upon 
the  paper  he  held.  Looking  about  him,  he  won- 
dered if  in  each  of  the  lives  of  these  people  was 
some  tender  longing,  some  anxiety  as  great  as 
his.  Then  he  chided  himself  for  comparing  his 
comparatively  comfortable  life  with  the  life  of 
the  poor  man  across  the  aisle  from  him,  with 
face  hard  and  cynical,  clothes  thin  and  worn. 

Come  to  think  of  it,  Tom  reflected,  the  only 
real  trouble  that  he  himself  had  this  morning 
was  that  he  had  not  heard  from  the  woman  he 
loved.  But  he  would  hear  from  her  when  he 
reached  the  office. 

Yet  here,  again,  he  was  doomed  to  disap- 
pointment. Only  business  communications 
awaited  him.  When  he  had  looked  over  these, 
he  felt  that  he  could  stand  this  suspense  no 
longer.  Perhaps  Edith  was  ill.  Perhaps  she 
had  not  received  his  telegram.  Yet  surely  some 
one  would  have  let  him  know ! 

A  happy  thought  struck  him.  He  would  tele- 
phone to  Ralph's  office.  To  be  sure,  Ralph  was 


In  the  Web  of  Life  127 

absent  from  his  office  so  often  that  Tom  won- 
dered why  he  troubled  his  mother  to  pay  the 
rent  of  the  place.  Yet  it  "looked  better,"  the 
son  insisted,  "for  a  lawyer  to  have  some  busi- 
ness address." 

The  boy  who  served  as  Ralph's  office  boy  and 
clerk  answered  Tom  when  he  ' '  rang  up. ' '  No, 
the  boy  said,  Mr.  Morton  had  not  been  to  the 
office  for  several  days  now — indeed,  for  almost 
a  week.  There  was,  therefore,  no  information 
to  be  gained  from  that  quarter. 

Tom  Morton  stood  irresolute.  Twice  he 
started  to  call  up  the  Hale  house,  then  stopped. 
His  pride  made  him  shrink  from  forcing  him- 
self upon  Edith's  attention  if  she  were  trying 
to  avoid  him.  Yet  surely  she  was  not  doing 
that!  He  said  this  over  and  over  to  himself, 
then  remembered  that  in  spite  of  his  letter  to 
her,  his  two  telegrams  and  his  request  that  she 
send  him  a  line,  she  had  made  no  sign. 

If  there  had  been  any  accident,  if  she  were 
too  ill  to  write,  Constance  Medford  would  haye 
written  him.  With  the  thought  of  Constance, 
his  face  lighted.  Here  was  the  way  to  learn  the 
truth.  He  would  telegraph  her.  Were  he  to 
telephone,  somebody  else  might  answer  or  she 


128  In  the  Web  of  Life 

might  be  out.  A  telegram  would  be  sure  to 
reach  her. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  Constance,  return- 
ing about  11  o  'clock  that  morning  from  a  music 
lesson  she  had  been  giving,  met  at  the  gate  of 
her  uncle 's  place  a  boy  with  a  telegram  bearing 
her  name.  She  was  glad  that  she  had  met  the 
boy,  because  now  she  need  not  tell  anybody  that 
Tom  had  communicated  with  her — at  least  not 
until  she  had  decided  how  best  to  answer  his 
message. 

In  spite  of  her  sympathy  with  him,  she 
smiled,  but  then  sighed  as  she  thought  of  the 
various  telegrams  from  and  about  him  that  had 
arrived  during  the  past  twenty-four  hours  and 
the  change  they  had  wrought  in  the  condition  of 
affairs.  This  message  gave  her  a  bit  of  a  heart- 
ache: 

" No  word  from  Edith.  Is  she  well?  Shall  I 
come? 

"T.  M." 

Constance  was  conscious  of  an  unwonted 
sense  of  impatience.  It  seemed  such  a  wanton 
waste  to  be  throwing  away  the  love  this  man 
was  offering  her — and  all  because  of  pique. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  129 

How  could  Edith  do  it?  And  as  Constance 
asked  herself  this  question  her  own  intuition 
answered  it  for  her :  Edith  had  not  really  loved 
Tom.  Her  vanity  had  been  touched  by  his  de- 
votion ;  she  knew  that  he  was  considered  an  eli- 
gible parti ;  he  was  good-looking  and  very  much 
in  love,  and  she  had  accepted  him.  But  if  she 
did  not  love  Tom,  neither  did  she  love  his  hand- 
somer cousin. 

Constance  found  herself  suddenly  sorry  for 
Edith.  A  strong  nature  is  often  sorry  for  a 
weaker  one,  for  if  the  woman  of  shallow  nature 
suffers  less  than  does  her  deep-natured  sister, 
she  also  enjoys  less  keenly.  In  pondering  on 
this,  Constance  Medford's  momentary  impa- 
tience passed  away,  and  she  smiled  brightly  as 
the  younger  girl  came  out  on  the  veranda  to 
greet  her. 

'  '  Hello,  Connie ! ' '  Edith  said.  "  It 's  a  dreary 
kind  of  a  day,  isn't  it!  I  never  woke  up  until 
an  hour  ago.  Ralph  'phoned  me  just  now  to  ask 
if  I  cared  to  go  for  an  auto  ride,  but  I  told  him 
it  was  too  damp. ' ' 

"It  certainly  is  damp,"  Constance  agreed. 
"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  yourself  to- 
day?" 


130  In  the  Web  of  Life 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  Edith  complained.  "I 
thought  of  going  to  town  if  the  day  were  nice. 
Perhaps  Ealph  might  ask  me  to  go  to  the  the- 
ater to-night — but  dad  has  sent  him  word  that 
he  wants  to  talk  with  him  after  dinner.  Oh, 
I  'm  tired  of  all  this  mess ! ' ' 

As  the  two  girls  stood  together,  Constance 
noted  that  the  look  of  weariness  had  passed 
from  her  cousin's  face  since  last  evening.  She 
marveled  that  she  could  so  soon  recover  from 
the  strain  she  had  passed  through,  and  found 
herself  understanding  why  men  fell  in  love  with 
Edith's  vivid  beauty  and  coloring.  The  dark 
brown  eyes  and  hair  seemed  in  some  lights 
black  and  brought  out  the  rich  glow  in  her 
cheeks.  Except  when  ill  or  very  weary,  Edith 
did  not  lose  this  glow.  Constance,  with  her 
clear-cut,  classic  features,  gray  eyes,  soft  brown 
hair  and  fair  skin,  seemed  almost  fragile  when 
compared  to  her  brilliantly  pretty  companion. 

Yet  thoughtful  people  often  looked  longer 
and  with  more  lasting  pleasure  at  the  older  girl. 
Her  face  had  a  sweet  pensiveness  that  made  it 
attractive.  Now  her  whole  expression  softened 
as  she  spoke  to  her  cousin,  laying  a  gentle  hand 
on  her  arm. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  131 

"Dear,"  she  said,  "forgive  me  for  asking — 
but  have  you  sent  any  word  to  Tom  1 ' ' 

"No!  "exclaimed  Edith.  "I  just  hate  to!  I 
don't  want  to  have  anything  more  to  do  with 
him." 

"But,  Edith,"  the  other  pleaded,  "some  one 
ought  to  send  him  some  word  about  the  condi- 
tion of  affairs.  He  may  come  here  to  see  you, 
you  know. ' ' 

Edith  gasped  with  consternation.  "Good- 
ness, so  he  might ! ' '  she  agreed.  ' '  Oh,  Connie — 
just  to  please  me  send  him  a  line — won't  you? 
Tell  him — yes — tell  him  I  wish  our  engagement 
broken — that  it  is  broken — that  I  have  asked 
you  to  tell  him.  I  told  mother  I  was  going  to 
ask  you  to  do  this." 

"And  what  did  she  say?"  queried  Con- 
stance. 

"That  it  was  asking  a  great  deal  of  you — 
and  that  I  ought  to  do  it  myself.  But  I  just 
can't!  Oh,  Connie — I  wasn't  going  to  tell  you 
this,  for  I  hate  to  talk  about  it— but  mother 
tells  me  that  as  soon  as  father  has  had  a  talk 
with  Ealph  to-night  he's  going  to  have  a  talk 
with  Tom.  But  I  want  him — Tom,  I  mean — to 
know  about  things  before  dad  sees  him." 


132  In  the  Web   of  Life 

1  'I  will  write  a  note  to  him,"  Constance  prom- 
ised gravely.  "But  you  can  tell  uncle  that  I 
have  done  so.  I  won't  do  it  clandestinely." 

''Thank  you,  Connie !"  the  other  said,  a  smile 
chasing  away  the  frown  that  had  just  gathered 
on  her  forehead.  "You  are  such  a  dear!" 

"I  can't  telegraph  him  the  whole  truth," 
muttered  Constance,  as  she  seated  herself  at 
her  desk.  "I  will  put  a  special  delivery  stamp 
on  this  and  catch  the  noon  mail.  He  will  get  it 
this  afternoon." 

She  was  right,  for  it  was  not  yet  four  o  'clock 
when  her  letter  was  laid  on  Tom  Morton's  desk. 
He  tore  it  open  eagerly. 

"Dear  Tom,"  he  read.  "Do  not  come  until 
you  hear  from  uncle.  Edith  has  changed  her 
mind.  Circumstances  which  have  been  hard  for 
her  to  understand  have  made  her  consider  her 
engagement  to  you  a  mistake.  If  you  were  only 
here,  I  could  explain  better — although  all  this 
is,  of  course,  none  of  my  business.  I  am  sorry, 
Tom — more  sorry  than  I  can  say. 

"Your  sincere  friend, 

"CONSTANCE  MEDFORD." 

The  letter  dropped  to  the  floor,  and  the  man 


In   the  Web   of  Life  133 

sat  for  a  moment  stunned  and  dazed.    Then  lie 
sprang  to  his  feet. 

"And  where  is  Balph  all  this  time?"  he  ex- 
claimed, his  face  flushing  angrily.  "Where  is 
Ralph!" 


Chapter  Ten 

Balph  Morton,  contrary  to  all  precedents  of 
romance,  had  slept  soundly.  Consciousness  of 
Ms  own  shortcomings  was  not  one  of  his  char- 
acteristics, and  in  this  case  any  qualms  that  the 
remembrance  of  his  perfidy  might  have  caused 
him  were  wholly  overcome  by  the  thought  of 
his  triumph  and  by  his  proud  mother's  raptur- 
ous words  of  praise. 

He  was  engaged  to  Edith,  he  told  himself  ex- 
ultingly.  He  had  won  out  against  odds  that 
would  have  discouraged  a  less  persistent  man. 
She  was  Ms,  the  girl  he  loved.  The  manner  in 
which  he  had  won  her  did  not  trouble  him,  nor 
did  any  scruples  abate  in  the  least  the  thrill  of 
self -congratulation  that  possessed  him  when  he 
considered  Ms  conquest. 

It  is  doubtful  if  either  that  night  or  the  fol- 
lowing morning  he  gave  more  than  a  passing 
thought  to  Tom  Morton  after  he  had  decided 
to  pay — with  Ms  mother's  money — the  debt  he 
owed  his  cousin. 

It  was  too  damp,  he  declared,  to  go  into  town, 
134 


In  the  Web  of  Life  135 

so  after  calling  up  Edith  on  the  telephone  and 
talking  to  her  for  a  few  minutes,  he  lounged 
about  the  house,  smoking,  stopping  at  his 
mother's  door  for  an  occasional  affectionate 
word,  and  casting  resentful  glances  at  the  gray 
and  lowering  day  outside. 

He  had  become  terribly  bored  with  himself 
and  his  present  surroundings,  and  had  just  de- 
cided to  invite  Edith  to  go  into  town  for  some 
kind  of  "a  show"  to-night,  when  he  was  sum- 
moned to  the  telephone  by  Edith's  father. 
Ealph  answered  him  with  a  suddenly  awakened 
sense  of  uneasiness. 

The  possibility  of  having  to  explain  his  own 
actions — and,  worse  than  that,  Tom's  actions — 
to  John  Hale  had  for  some  reason  not  occurred 
to  him.  As  he  grasped  the  receiver,  there 
flashed  across  his  mind  the  idea  that  perhaps 
he  had  only  now  begun  his  fight  for  Edith. 

' '  I  am  in  the  city,  Ralph,  and  I  called  you  up 
at  your  office,"  the  older  man  began  abruptly. 
"But  I  learned  that  you  were  not  there." 

4 'No,"  replied  the  other,  "I  didn't  go  into 
town  this  morning — it  was  such  a  rotten  day. ' ' 

"I  imagined  that  was  your  reason  for  staying 
at  home,"  observed  John  Hale  dryly.  "I  am 


136  In  the  Web  of  Life 

sorry  you  did  not  come  in.  There  is  something 
that  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about — something 
that  cannot  very  well  be  discussed  over  the 
phone.  Can  you  come  to  my  house  some  time 
this  evening?" 

"Why— yes— I  think  I  can,"  Ealph  hesitat- 
ed; "though  I  was  planning  to  ask  you  and 
Mrs.  Hale  to  let  me  take  Edith  into  the  city  for 
the  theater  this  evening.  But  that  can,  of 
course,  be  postponed." 

"If  Edith  really  wants  to  go,  there  is  no  ne- 
cessity of  a  postponement, "  the  father  said.  "I 
shall  be  at  home  at  five  this  afternoon.  Sup- 
pose you  drop  in  and  see  me  then." 

"I  shall  be  only  too  glad  to,"  agreed  Ealph 
with  a  cordiality  which  he  was  far  from  feel- 
ing. 

' '  Very  well, ' '  returned  John  Hale.  ' '  I  shall 
expect  you  at  five  o'clock.  I  may  as  well  tell 
you  frankly  beforehand,  Ealph,  that  there  are 
several  things  that  puzzle  me.  I  shall  hope  that 
a  full  explanation  from  you  may  clear  them  up. 
Good-by!" 

"Good-by!"  Ealph  returned,  forcing  himself 
to  speak  pleasantly.  But  his  face  was  white  as 
he  turned  away  from  the  telephone.  Suddenly 


In  the  Web  of  Life  137 

he  saw  the  depth  of  his  deception  and  entangle- 
ment, and  a  sickening  dread  possessed  him, 
driving  all  of  his  thoughts  of  triumph  from  his 
mind.  For  a  moment  even  his  self -justification 
deserted  him. 

How  much  did  Mr.  Hale  know?  How  much 
did  he  suspect?  These  questions  echoed  again 
and  again  through  his  perturbed  mind,  tortur- 
ing hun  like  a  physical  pain.  He  had  always 
been  a  little  afraid  of  Edith's  father.  As  far 
back  as  Ralph  could  remember,  the  sharp-eyed, 
clear-headed  man  of  business  seemed  to  under- 
stand him  and  his  methods  far  better  than  the 
boy's  own  mother  did.  The  accepted  suitor  ap- 
preciated now  that  the  conference  for  which  he 
had  just  arranged  would  be  no  mere  formality. 
Mr.  Hale  would  question  him  searchingly,  nor 
would  he  accept  evasive  answers.  If  he  was  de- 
termined to  know  what  had  caused  his  daugh- 
ter's change  of  mind,  any  apparent  attempt  on 
the  part  of  the  younger  man  to  blind  him  to  the 
truth  would  ruin  his  own  hopes.  Perhaps 
Edith's  father  had  already  had  a  talk  with  Tom 
Morton;  he  might  even  bring  Tom  home  with 
hun  and  make  the  younger  cousin  tell  his  story 


138  In  the  Web  of  Life 

before  the  man  whom  he  had  betrayed.  The 
idea  was  most  disconcerting. 

Ealph  Morton  went  to  his  own  room  and 
walked  the  floor  for  a  long  hour,  smoking  cig- 
arette after  cigarette,  considering  and  reject- 
ing innumerable  excuses  which  he  might  offer 
in  explanation.  At  last  he  paused  before  a  pho- 
tograph of  Edith  that  stood  on  his  mantel.  It 
had  been  the  girl's  Christmas  gift  to  his  mother, 
and  Ealph  had  confiscated  it  for  his  room. 

"I'll  lie,  if  I  have  to,"  he  muttered;  "I'll  lie 
myself  black  in  the  face  before  I'll  give  you  up ! 
You're  mine,  now,  and  I'll  fight  for  you  to  a 
finish.  But  I  won't  tell  a  lie  that  can  be  proved 
unless  I  have  to.  There  is  a  way  of  using  the 
truth  to  accomplish  one's  ends.  And  all's  fair 
in  love,  anyway." 

With  this  quotation  of  a  truism  which  has 
been  employed  to  cover  and  condone  many  a 
treachery  and  evil  deed,  he  went  downstairs, 
whistling  softly.  He  had  decided  that  the  first 
weapon  he  would  use  would  be  a  seeming  truth. 
That  was  safer  than  a  lie.  But,  if  necessary, 
the  lie  would  be  called  into  requisition.  He  felt 
more  at  peace  now  with  the  world  and  himself. 
He  had  arranged  his  plan  of  campaign.  Truth 


In  the  Web  of  Life  139 

and  what  seemed  to  be  an  honorable  reserve 
would  work  wonders. 

Later  he  called  up  Edith  and  asked  her  to  go 
to  the  theater  with  him  that  night. 

" I'd  like  to  go, "  she  said  wistfully.  " It 's  so 
dull  here.  But  I'll  have  to  ask  father  and 
mother  first." 

" Don't  you  bother  about  that,"  Ealph 
laughed  happily.  "I  have  already  asked  and 
received  permission  from  your  father  to  take 
you — and  without  a  chaperon,  too.  You  see, 
now  that  we're  engaged,  it's  all  right." 

"I  see,"  Edith  murmured.  "Thank  you, 
Ealph." 

"Thank  you,  Edith!"  Ealph  replied  softly. 
The  thought  of  being  with  her  so  soon  again 
nerved  him  for  the  coming  interview  with  her 
father. 

When  he  entered  the  Hale  library  at  five 
o'clock,  he  found  the  master  of  the  house  alone, 
and  noted  this  fact  with  a  throb  of  relief.  For 
hours  he  had  feared  that  Tom  Morton  might 
also  be  present  at  the  interview.  Since  it  was 
only  Mr.  Hale  with  whom  he  had  to  deal,  he 
could  speak  with  less  constraint.  Suddenly  he 
felt  very  confident  of  the  outcome  of  the  conver- 


140  In  the  Web  of  Life 

sation,  and  smilingly  held  out  his  hand  as  his 
host  rose  to  greet  him. 

"Good  afternoon,  Kalph,"  said  the  older 
man,  not  unkindly.  "Sit  down.  I  am  glad 
you  came  so  promptly,  for  I  want  to  have  a  talk 
with  you." 

"I  am  glad  that  you  do,  sir,"  Ralph  replied. 
"For  I  also  want  to  talk  with  you.  I  have  felt 
all  day  that  I  must  see  you." 

Already  he  had  assumed  the  part  which  he 
had  determined  to  play.  His  real  self  seemed 
for  the  moment  to  be  wholly  detached  from  him 
— a  prompter  who,  from  somewhere  in  the 
wings  of  his  consciousness,  directed  him  in  his 
role.  Apart  from  a  certain  excitement,  he  felt 
more  at  his  ease  than  he  had  done  since  Mr. 
Hale's  telephone  message  to  Tin'm. 

"I  imagine  that  we  want  to  confer  about  the 
same  thing,"  Edith's  father  began,  tugging  re- 
flectively at  his  gray  mustache.  "I  am  going  to 
be  very  frank  in  my  questions  to  you,  and  I 
want  you  to  be  as  straightforward  in  replying 
to  them.  This  is  no  time  for  reserves  or  mis- 
taken loyalty.  The  responsibility  which  you 
took  upon  yourself  last  night  in  asking  my 


In  the  Web  of  Life  141 

daughter  to  marry  you  should  be  considered 
before  the  possible  claims  of  friendship." 

"I  fully  appreciate  that,  sir,"  Ralph  re- 
turned, with  a  quiet  dignity.  ''What  do  you 
wish  to  ask  me  7 ' ' 

"Do  you  know  of  any  reason,"  demanded 
Mr.  Hale,  "why  Tom  Morton,  your  cousin  and 
friend,  should  not  marry  my  daughter?" 

* '  One  very  excellent  reason  is  that  she  is  en- 
gaged to  me  and  not  to  him,"  Ealph  replied 
lightly. 

A  frown  crossed  the  father's  fine  face  at  the 
flippant  speech.  "You  are  evading  my  ques- 
tion, Ealph, ' '  he  accused.  '  *  Why  did  Tom  Mor- 
ton go  to  Baltimore?" 

"He  went  on  business,  I  believe,"  the  other 
answered  slowly. 

"Do  you  know  what  the  nature  of  the  busi- 
ness was?" 

The  younger  man  hesitated  for  a  moment,  but 
his  eyes  met  squarely  the  grave,  estimating  gaze 
of  his  questioner.  It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose 
that  only  the  sincere  person  can  look  one  di- 
rectly in  the  eyes.  When  Ealph  spoke  there  was 
a  regretful  note  in  his  voice. 

"I  really  don't  see,  Mr.  Hale,"  he  protested, 


142  In  the  Web  of  Life 

"why  I  should  be  put  on  the  witness  stand  or 
be  held  accountable  for  Tom's  comings  and  go- 
ings. As  far  as  I  can  see,  my  only  offense  has 
been  that  of  loving  your  daughter.  That  cer- 
tainly is  no  cause  for  this  cross-examination 
concerning  the  doings  of  a  man  who  is  quite  ca- 
pable of  speaking  for  himself.  I  would  sug- 
gest, sir,  that  you  ask  Tom  for  an  account  of 
his  stay  in  Baltimore.  I  do  know  that  while 
there  he  paid,  at  my  request,  a  debt  of  mine. 
Further  than  that,  I  cannot  and  will  not  say. ' ' 

A  sudden  flash  of  understanding  lighted  John 
Hale's  face.  This,  then,  had  been  the  money 
mentioned  in  the  mysterious  telegram  to  Ralph. 
He  had  learned  to-day  that  the  message  as  re- 
peated to  Edith  by  Ealph's  mother  had  been 
correct.  Now  he  understood  what  it  meant — at 
least  to  a  certain  extent. 

But  why  had  the  sender  cautioned  Ralph  to 
be  careful,  unless  to  warn  him  that  Tom  was 
not  dealing  honestly  with  him?  Tom,  whom  he, 
John  Hale,  had  always  trusted  and  liked !  He 
could  not  believe  Tom  to  be  untrustworthy. 

The  whole  affair  puzzled  him  and  made  him 
uneasy.  Yet  there  had  been  a  suggestion  of 
reluctance  to  violate  a  confidence  in  the  tone 


In  the  Web  of  Life  143 

with  which  Ealph  had  delivered  himself  of  his 
last  words  and  this  was  not  lost  upon  Mr.  Hale. 

"I  can  hardly  demand  an  explanation  from 
Tom,"  the  father  said  somberly.  "No  one— 
not  even  Edith — has  brought  any  fixed  charge 
against  him.  The  only  count  on  which  I  can 
prove  that  he  is  guilty  is  that  of  losing  his  train, 
and  I  am  too  old  a  commuter  to  hold  that 
against  him  for  long."  He  tried  to  laugh,  but 
failed.  "From  what  you  and  Edith  have  told 
me,  it  appears  that  my  daughter  has  been  over- 
suspicious  of  the  lad,  and  that  he  and  she  have 
lost  their  keen  interest  in  each  other.  I  cannot 
go  to  him  and  confront  him  with  such  an  indict- 
ment— especially  when  the  child  herself  has  be- 
come engaged  to  another  man. 

"I  suppose  it  is  our  breathless  modern  life 
that  is  responsible  for  this  kind  of  thing,"  he 
added,  with  a  half  smile.  "We  were  slower  in 
suspicions  and  in  changing  ideals  when  I  was 
young." 

"I  do  not  want  you  to  think,  sir,"  Ealph  in- 
terposed deprecatingly,  "that  I  became  engaged 
to  Edith  from  any  motive  on  her  part  except 
self -protection.  I  wish  I  could  declare  that  she 
loves  me — but  she  doesn't.  I  love  her  dearly. 


144  In  the  Web  of  Life 

I  have  loved  her  ever  since  I  was  a  little  chap. 
I  hope  she  may  learn  to  love  me — all  unworthy 
as  I  know  myself  to  be.  I  cannot  even  flatter 
myself  into  fancying  that  she  cares  for  me  very 
deeply  yet — but  I  pray  that  she  may  in  time. 
Our  engagement  so  far  is  one  of  form.  She 
thought  people  had  linked  her  name  with  Tom's 
and  was  distressed  at  the  idea.  I  offered  my- 
self as  a  bulwark  to  shield  her  from  gossip.  I 
count  myself  honored  that  she  accepted  me.  I 
hope  you  understand  that." 

"I  do  understand  it,  Balph,"  said  his  com- 
panion with  more  cordiality  than  he  had  shown 
before.  "I  understand  and  appreciate  it.  This 
sudden  turn  of  affairs  has  been  a  shock  to  my 
wife  and  me — but  we  feel  kindly  toward  you, 
Balph." 

Thus  the  interview  ended,  and  Balph  knew 
that  his  good  luck  had  not  forsaken  him.  A 
thrill  of  exultation  ran  through  his  being. 

It  stayed  with  him  all  the  evening  as  he  and 
Edith  sat  in  the  theater,  and  he  appeared  at  his 
best — bright,  pleasant,  polished  in  manner. 
The  pair  were  seated  after  the  performance  in 
the  fashionable  Broadway  restaurant  where 
Balph  had  insisted  that  they  go  "for  a  bite  be- 


In  the  Web  of  Life  145 

fore  returning  home,"  when  Edith's  smiling 
face  paled  suddenly. 

"Let  us  go  home,  Balph,"  she  said  breath- 
lessly. "It's  very  late." 

The  man's  eyes  followed  the  direction  that 
her  frightened  gaze  had  taken.  Two  men  were 
seated  at  a  table  not  far  from  them.  One  of 
them  Balph  did  not  recognize.  The  other  was 
Tom  Morton.  As  they  looked,  Tom  turned  and 
saw  them  both. 

Balph,  with  the  sudden — and  he  told  himself 
unreasonable — dread  of  exposure  heavy  upon 
him,  and  Edith — eager  to  avoid  what  she  feared 
would  be  a  scene — hastened  to  leave  the  restau- 
rant, shrinking  from  the  steady  gaze  of  Tom 
Morton  as  though  linked  by  a  common  sin. 

The  man's  fingers  were  clumsy  with  haste  as 
he  held  the  girl's  cloak  for  her,  and  she  whis- 
pered to  him  as  she  fastened  the  garment: 
"Come,  let's  get  away  from  here!  I'm  afraid 
he  will  try  to  speak  to  me. ' ' 

Without  another  glance  in  the  direction  of 
the  table  at  which  her  late  fiance  was  seated  the 
girl  hurried  from  the  room,  Balph  following 
close  behind  her.  In  the  foyer  they  paused  for 


146  In  the  Web  of  Life 

a  moment  while  Ealph  got  his  coat  and  hat  from 
the  boy  in  attendance. 

"Thank  Heaven!"  breathed  Edith  fervently, 
as  Ealph,  his  coat  over  his  arm  and  his  hat  in 
his  hand,  started  with  her  toward  the  entrance. 

The  man  gave  a  little  embarrassed  laugh,  but 
his  companion  noted  the  beads  of  perspiration 
that  had  sprung  out  upon  his  forehead. 

' '  There  was  no  need  of  being  frightened,  my 
dear, ' '  he  told  her  with  a  manner  that  he  tried 
to  make  assured.  ' '  He  certainly  would  not  have 
spoken  to  you  back  in  there  with  all  those 
people  present.  He  would  not  have  cared  to 
make  a  scene." 

He  stopped  short,  with  an  uncontrollable 
start  of  surprise.  Tom  Morton  stood  at  his 
elbow,  his  face  pale  and  almost  wooden  in  its 
lack  of  expression.  The  new  arrival  did  not 
notice  Ealph  by  look  or  gesture,  but  addressed 
himself  to  Edith,  speaking  slowly  and  care- 
fully. 

"I  have  no  desire  to  'make  a  scene,'  "  he 
said,  repeating  with  emphasis  the  sentence  he 
had  just  heard  Ealph  use,  "nor  to  ask  for  ex- 
planations here.  It  is  scarcely  the  place  for 
that  kind  of  thing.  I  only  followed  you,  Edith, 


In  the  Web  of  Life  147 

to  ask  you  when  we  may  meet  and  each  hear 
what  the  other  has  to  say." 

There  were  several  seconds  of  tense  silence, 
while  the  girl  glanced  quickly  from  the  tall 
figure  on  one  side  of  her  to  the  slighter  and 
shorter  form  and  nervous  face  of  her  es- 
cort. Then  she  spoke  deliberately,  turning  to 
the  latter. 

"It  is  time  we  were  going  home,  Balph,"  she 
said,  moving  away. 

Tom  Morton  laid  a  hand  on  her  arm.  She 
could  feel  that  his  fingers  were  quivering. 

"I  have  a  right  to  an  explanation,"  he  said. 
There  was  a  ring  as  of  steel  in  his  low  tones, 
though  his  face  remained  passionless. 

A  sudden  color  flamed  in  the  girl's  face,  and 
with  a  swift  gesture  of  repulsion  she  shrank 
from  the  speaker.  Her  dark  eyes  looked  into 
his,  scornfully,  stormily. 

"How  dare  you  talk  of  demanding  an  expla- 
nation?" she  asked,  angrily.  Her  tone,  too, 
was  low,  but  every  word  was  distinctly  heard 
by  the  two  men.  "How  dare  you  halt  me  in  a 
public  place  and  speak  to  me  when  you  must 
know  that  I  hate  you  1  If  there  were  to  be  any 
explanations,  I  would  be  the  one  to  ask  for 


148  In  the  Web  of  Life 

them.  I  waive  that  right.  I  do  not  want  ever 
to  see  you  again.  This  is  the  last  insult  that  I 
will  endure  from  you ! ' ' 

Tom  Morton  did  not  flinch  from  the  blast  of 
her  wrath.  He  stood  motionless  after  releasing 
her,  his  hands  clasped  behind  him. 

"I  have  already  written  to  you,  Edith,"  he 
remarked  in  an  almost  casual  tone.  "I  think 
you  will  feel  differently  after  reading  my  let- 
ter." 

"I  shall  not  read  it!"  she  exclaimed,  child- 
ishly. "I  shall  burn  it — or  return  it  to  you — 
to  prove  that  I  have  not  read  it." 

Without  another  word  she  walked  again 
toward  the  door.  Tom's  eyes  followed  her.  It 
would  have  been  difficult  to  read  what  his  gaze 
held.  Then  he  looked  at  Ealph,  but  the  other 
man,  refusing  to  meet  his  glance,  hurried  after 
his  betrothed.  He  could  look  straight  into  John 
Hale's  eyes  this  afternoon  while  acting  a  part, 
but  he  was  not  sure  enough  of  himself  to  meet 
the  accusing  eyes  of  the  man  whom  he  had 
wronged. 

It  was  not  until  Ealph  Morton  had  piloted 
his  car  safely  through  the  shifting  current  of 
city  traffic  that  he  spoke  to  the  girl  at  his  side. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  149 

"You  were  a  little  hard  on  Tom,  I  think, 
dear, "  he  ventured. 

'  *  Can  anybody  be  too  hard  on  him  now,  after 
all  that  he  has  done?"  she  demanded  angrily. 
"You,  who  know  it  all — in  spite  of  your  deter- 
mination to  shield  him  from  the  rest  of  us — 
should  be  the  last  one  to  plead  with  me  to  be 
gentle  with  him. ' ' 

"We  are  not  all  of  us  saints,"  Ealph  told 
her  twenty  minutes  later.  He  had  not  spoken 
since  her  indignant  exclamation,  and  they  had 
crossed  the  ferry  in  silence  and  had  now  reached 
the  top  of  the  hill  on  the  New  Jersey  side  of  the 
river. 

"I,  myself,  have  a  confession  to  make  to  you. 
It  is  better  to  do  it  before  our  engagement  goes 
further.  All  men  are  pretty  much  alike,  I'm 
afraid,  until  they  have  some  hope  of  being  loved 
by  the  Only  Girl.  There  was  a  time  when  I  fell 
from  grace  myself.  I  shall  not  tell  you  her 
name.  You  do  not  know  her.  You  never  will 
know  her.  I  was  young  and  foolish  and  she  was 
— well — neither!  The  thought  of  my  sinful 
folly  has  tortured  me  during  the  past  year.  I 
had  to  confess  it  to  you.  I  do  not  plead  for 
mercy. ' ' 


150  In  the  Web  of  Life 

There  are  few  things  that  make  more  for  love 
and  confidence  than  does  an  open  and  unsolic- 
ited confession  of  past  errors.  This  man,  in 
yielding  weakly  and  as  a  precautionary  measure 
to  the  impulse  to  confess,  had  made  his  com- 
panion feel  that  he  was  more  noble  than  she 
had  known.  She  sat  thinking  deeply  after  he 
had  ceased  speaking;  then  she  turned  and  laid 
an  impulsive  hand  on  his  arm. 

"I  am  sorry  it  happened,  Ralph,"  she  whis- 
pered. "But  I  am  glad  and  proud  that  you 
told  me." 

He,  leaning  toward  her,  bowed  his  head  and 
kissed  her  for  the  first  time. 

A  college  friend  of  Tom's  had  unexpectedly 
remained  overnight  in  New  York,  and  the  pair 
had  attended  the  theater  together,  stopping  in 
a  restaurant  on  their  way  home. 

Here  Tom  had  excused  himself  long  enough 
for  his  short  interview  with  Edith.  When  he  re- 
turned, so  calm  was  his  bearing  that  his  guest 
took  no  further  thought  of  the  occurrence. 

Ralph  Morton  was  able  to  play  a  double  part 
with  some  skill,  but  his  cousin  possessed  poise 
and  self-control  of  which  Ralph  was  incapable. 


Chapter  Eleven 

Tom  Morton's  letter  to  Edith  Hale  had  been 
sent  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  as  soon  as 
he  had  received  Constance  Medford's  note.  He 
had  felt  that  he  could  not  endure  another  hour 
without  asking  the  woman  he  loved  to  give  him 
a  chance  to  explain  matters  to  her.  To  this 
end  he  had  written  urgently,  perhaps  more  con- 
vincingly than  he  knew.  "With  the  dread  of  fur- 
ther delays,  taught  him  by  the  circumstances  of 
the  past  few  days,  he  emulated  Constance  Med- 
ford's example  and  put  upon  his  envelope  a 
special  delivery  stamp. 

The  letter  reached  its  destination  during  the 
evening  and  was  laid  by  Constance  upon  Edith's 
dressing  table.  Here  the  white  oblong  caught 
the  girl's  eye  as  soon  as  she  switched  on  the 
light  in  her  room  after  parting  from  Ealph  at 
the  door  of  her  home.  She  had  paused,  as  was 
her  custom,  at  her  mother's  room  to  say  good- 
night, then  had  gone  softly  to  her  own  cham- 
ber. She  did  not  suspect  that  her  cousin  was 
lying  awake  hoping  that  Edith  would  come  to 


1 52  In  the  Web  of  Life 

her  with  some  news  of  Tom.  Constance  felt 
that  she  could  sleep  better  if  she  knew  that  Tom 
was  not  as  wretched  as  she  feared. 

But  this  whim — if  whim  it  was — was  not  to 
be  gratified,  and  she  turned  over  with  a  sigh  and 
closed  her  eyes.  Once  she  thought  she  heard  a 
door  open  and  shut,  but  as  there  was  no  further 
sound  she  convinced  herself  that  she  had  been 
mistaken  and  tried  to  think  of  other  matters. 

Meanwhile  Edith  looked  at  the  envelope  be- 
fore her  with  a  sneer  of  disgust.  Perhaps  there 
is  no  person  stronger  in  her  prejudices  than  the 
much-loved  woman  who  is  accustomed  to  hav- 
ing things  her  own  way,  and  can,  therefore, 
brook  no  crossing  of  her  will.  Tom  had  morti- 
fied her,  had  seemed  not  to  care  enough  about 
her  to  be  present  upon  the  occasion  of  her 
dinner,  had,  she  thought,  been  with  some  other 
woman.  All  of  these  misdemeanors  made  it 
hard  for  her  to  forgive  him.  A  woman  who 
loved  more  deeply,  who  had  known  more  real 
suffering,  would  have  trusted  more,  or  would, 
at  least,  have  given  the  offender  an  opportu- 
nity to  explain  himself.  But  wounded  vanity, 
coupled  with  jealousy,  forms  a  combination  that 
even  a  strong  and  just  man  would  find  hard 


In  the  Web  of  Life  153 

to  fight.  And  a  pretty  woman  can  be  very 
vindictive  to  one  who  seems  to  forget  her 
charm. 

With  a  determination  that  did  not  falter, 
Edith  picked  up  the  letter,  carried  it  to  her 
desk,  and,  seating  herself  there,  pulled  off  her 
long  gloves,  dropping  them  in  her  haste  on  the 
floor,  seized  an  envelope,  slipped  Tom's  unop- 
ened letter  into  this,  and  with  a  firm  hand  ad- 
dressed it  to  the  sender.  Then,  stamping  it,  she 
crept  softly  downstairs  with  it,  and,  in  spite 
of  the  lateness  of  the  hour  and  the  darkness  of 
midnight,  ran  down  the  garden  walk  and 
dropped  the  letter  into  the  box  at  the  gate.  The 
front  door  slipped  from  her  grasp  as  she  was 
closing  it  upon  her  return  and  it  was  this  sound 
that  Constance  heard.  Had  she  suspected  who 
had  caused  the  noise  and  what  her  errand  out- 
of-doors  had  been,  she  would  have  slept  even 
less  than  she  did  that  night. 

Yet  she  was  not  to  be  kept  long  in  ignorance 
of  Edith's  actions.  After  breakfast  the  follow- 
ing morning  the  two  girls  strolled  out  upon  the 
broad  veranda.  The  clouds  of  yesterday  had 
been  driven  away  by  a  brisk  breeze  and  once 
more  the  world  looked  very  beautiful.  Mrs. 


154  IH  the  Web  of  Life 

Hale  came  out  through  one  of  the  long  windows 
from  the  dining-room  to  chat  about  the  plans 
for  the  day.  She  had  asked  Edith  no  questions, 
as  her  husband  had  suggested  that  "the  child 
was  best  left  alone  until  she  could  think  matters 
over  calmly.*'  Nor  had  Edith  volunteered  any 
information  beyond  the  brief  fact  of  her  en- 
gagement, which  she  had  imparted  on  the  night 
of  the  dinner.  There  was  an  atmosphere  of 
suspense  about  them  all,  it  seemed  to  Constance, 
and  she  found  herself  chafing  against  condi- 
tions. Again  and  again  she  reminded  herself 
that  the  affair  was  no  concern  of  hers,  that  she 
had  no  right  to  resent  her  cousin's  plans,  that 
it  was  ridiculous  for  her  to  make  herself  un- 
happy over  the  unfortunate  circumstances.  Yet 
she  could  not  rid  herself  of  a  sense  of  depres- 
sion. 

It  was,  therefore,  with  a  throb  of  gratitude 
that  she  heard  Edith  say,  after  her  mother  had 
gone  back  into  the  house : 

' '  Sit  down  here  by  me,  Connie.  I  want  to  talk 
to  you.  I've  had  a  horrid  time  since  I  saw  you 
yesterday." 

At  last,  Constance  thought,  she  would  learn 
something  of  Tom's  fate. 


In  the  Web  of  Life 


"Thank  you,"  she  said,  obeying  Edith's  mo- 
tion for  her  to  take  a  seat  on  the  broad  wicker 
divan.  "I  am  sorry  you  have  had  a  horrid 
time,  dear." 

"I  know  you  are,"  Edith  affirmed.  "And 
that  is  why  I  want  to  talk  to  you  and  tell  you 
what  has  happened." 

Finding  it  rather  agreeable  to  pour  forth  her 
grievance  to  a  sympathetic  listener,  Edith  gave 
a  graphic  account  of  the  encounter  of  last  eve- 
ning, repeating  with  evident  enjoyment  her 
scathing  replies  to  Tom's  appeal.  So  absorbed 
was  she  in  her  story  that  she  did  not  see  the 
stern  look  that  was  changing  Constance's  nat- 
urally curving  lips  to  a  hard  line.  Finally,  the 
narrator  told  of  the  letter  she  had  found  on  her 
table. 

"I  laid  it  there,"  Constance  said  briefly. 

"I  supposed  it  was  you,"  remarked  Edith. 
"I  was  so  angry  at  Tom's  daring  to  write  to  me 
that  I  actually  was  not  a  bit  afraid  to  run  all 
the  way  down  to  the  gate  and  mail  his  letter 
to  him  unopened.  He  must  have  received  it  this 
morning.  '  ' 

To  her  astonishment,  her  companion  uttered 
an  exclamation  of  mingled  horror  and  compas- 


156  In  the  Web  of  Life 

sion.  Her  eyes  were  wide  and  dark,  her  face  pale. 

"And  that,"  Constance  accused,  "that  is  the 
way  you  treated  an  honorable  gentleman ! ' ' 

"Connie!"  gasped  the  girl.  "What  do  you 
mean?" 

Constance  had  risen  to  her  feet.  Her  cousin 
had  never  before  suspected  the  existence  of  the 
temper  that  now  flashed  forth. 

"Mean!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  mean  that  you 
have  been  cruel,  unjust — both  you  and  Ealph — 
and  that  you,  a  girl  who  is  supposed  to  be  capa- 
ble of  tenderness,  have  trampled  under  foot 
the  love  of  a  good  and  honorable  man !  Oh,  I 
know  you  don't  trust  him" — as  Edith  tried  to 
check  her — "but  that  is  nothing  to  be  proud 
of!  I  should  think  you  would  be  ashamed  to 
acknowledge  what  you  have  done ! " 

She  stopped  with  a  quick  catch  in  her  breath, 
as  if  suddenly  overwhelmed  at  the  sound  of  her 
own  tempestuous  denunciation.  Then,  turning, 
she  went  swiftly  into  the  house. 

It  was  characteristic  of  Tom  Morton  that  he 
should  work  a  little  harder  than  usual  after 
receiving  fiom  Edith  his  own  letter,  unopened. 
Her  action  had  hurt  him  cruelly.  An  instinctive 


In  the  Web  of  Life  157 

desire  to  dull  by  a  counter-irritation  the  mental 
pain  which  he  suffered  drove  him  to  his  office 
and  to  hard,  brain-absorbing  labor. 

He  dared  not  trust  himself  to  think  just  yet 
of  Edith's  rebuff.  The  girl  he  loved  more  than 
all  else  in  the  world  had  turned  against  him 
— how  or  why  he  did  not  know.  Worse  than 
that,  she  had  deliberately  insulted  him,  and  he 
was  not  the  type  of  man  to  bear  such  an  af- 
front meekly.  His  letter  to  Edith  had  been 
lying  at  his  plate  on  the  breakfast  table,  and, 
feeling  his  servant's  eyes  upon  him,  he  had 
leisurely  opened  the  outer  envelope.  Then, 
after  a  glance  which  showed  him  his  own  hand- 
writing on  the  inner  envelope,  laid  the  letter 
down  casually  and  pretended  to  busy  himself 
with  his  morning  repast.  Tom  Morton  knew 
himself  better  than  do  most  young  men,  and  it 
was  with  the  hope  that  he  might  later  face  his 
problem  more  calmly  that  he  went  to  his  office 
early  to-day  and  immersed  himself  in  the  com- 
parison and  annotation  of  a  pile  of  papers  which 
his  stenographer  had  laid  on  his  desk. 

He  worked  steadily  and  doggedly  for  some 
hours,  pinning  his  thoughts  down  to  the  busi- 
ness of  the  day.  At  last,  his  task  completed,  he 


158  In  the  Web  of  Life 

swung  himself  around  in  his  desk  chair  and 
spoke  to  the  narrow-chested  youth  sitting  at  a 
typewriter  at  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

"Copy  these  notes,  please,  Harry,"  he  or- 
dered. "That  job  is  finished  at  any  rate." 

' '  Finished ! ' '  exclaimed  the  other.  ' '  You  are 
some  worker,  Mr.  Morton!" 

"I  felt  like  working,"  rejoined  Tom,  smiling 
grimly.  "I  think  I'll  go  out  now  and  get  some 
lunch." 

"You  must  need  it,"  his  stenographer  com- 
mented. "It's  after  2  o'clock." 

In  the  restaurant  Tom  gave  his  order,  then 
sat  silent,  gazing  somberly  at  the  tablecloth  in 
front  of  him.  After  a  while  he  took  from  his 
pocket  a  sealed  letter,  looked  at  it  thoughtfully 
for  a  moment  and  returned  it  to  his  pocket. 
His  lips  set  themselves  in  a  pale,  thin  line,  and 
there  had  come  to  his  usually  kind  eyes  a  hard 
gleam. 

Anger — the  cold,  vindictive  wrath  of  hurt 
pride — drove  from  his  mind  all  softer  emotions. 

"Well,"  he  muttered  to  himself ," it 's  all  over 
with,  of  course.  In  a  year  I  shall  be  glad,  I 
imagine,  that  I  found  her  out  when  I  did.  But 
it's  hell  now!" 


In  the  Web  of  Life  159 

He  felt  already  that  the  episode  was  all  but 
closed.  One  thing  alone  remained.  He  must 
see  Ealph.  His  fingers  tightened  their  grip  on 
the  edge  of  the  table  as  he  thought  of  this.  He 
would  make  Ealph  explain  his  part  in  the  af- 
fair— if  he  had  to  choke  the  truth  out  of  him. 

He  finished  his  lonely  meal,  scarcely  know- 
ing what  he  ate,  and,  leaving  the  restaurant, 
strolled  down  Broadway  in  the  sunshine.  He 
had  gone  only  a  block  or  two  when  he  heard 
his  name  spoken  and  found  himself  face  to  face 
with  Edith's  father. 

"Good  afternoon,  sir,"  Tom  said  coldly,  pre- 
tending not  to  see  the  older  man 's  outstretched 
hand.  "Did  you  call  me  just  now?  I  thought 
I  heard  you  speak  my  name." 

"I  haven't  seen  you  for  some  days,  Tom," 
answered  Mr.  Hale  mildly.  "How  are  you,  my 
boy?" 

"It  will  probably  be  many  more  days  before 
any  member  of  the  Hale  family  sees  me  again, ' ' 
Tom  replied  with  a  bitter  laugh.  "As  far  as 
my  health  is  concerned,  I  am  a  little  tired,  but 
otherwise  very  well." 

He  turned  to  go  on,  but  John  Hale  laid  a 
detaining  hand  on  his  arm. 


160  In  the  Web  of  Life 

"Come  into  my  office  for  a  few  minutes, 
Tom,"  he  commanded.  "I  want  to  talk  to 
you." 

"I  am  very  busy,"  Morton  demurred. 

"You  are  not  too  busy  to  talk  to  an  old  man 
who  has  known  you  always  and  has  always 
trusted  you,  Tom.  Come  along ! ' ' 

Ten  minutes  later,  seated  in  Mr.  Hale's  pri- 
vate office,  Tom  Morton  drew  a  long  breath  and 
met  the  older  man 's  eyes  calmly. 

"Fire  away,  Mr.  Hale!"  he  said,  with  a  half 
smile.  "What  do  you  want  to  say  to  me?" 

"I'm  worried,"  the  other  declared.  "Wor- 
ried about  this  tempest  in  a  teapot  between 
you  and  Edith.  I  shall  not  demand  any  expla- 
nation from  my  daughter,  since  she  seems  to 
have  taken  the  management  of  the  affair  into 
her  own  hands,  and  evidently  feels  that  her  hap- 
piness depends  upon  being  allowed  to  do  this. 
Lord  knows  I  want  her  to  be  happy !  Still,  if 
you  could  forget  for  a  few  minutes  that  I  am 
Edith's  father,  and  think  of  me  simply  as  your 
friend  and  confidant,  I  should  be  very  glad  to 
hear  what  you  have  to  say.  It  will  go  no  fur- 
ther, unless  you  wish  to  have  it  do  so." 

"I  have  nothing  to  say,"  Tom  answered  de- 


In  the  Web  of  Life  161 

cidedly.  "Your  daughter  can  explain  things 
much  better  than  I  can.  She,  at  least,  must 
have  some  shadow  of  a  reason  for  her  action. 
She  has  decided  affairs  for  herself.  I  have  no 
idea  what  has  brought  about  the  existing  con- 
ditions." 

'  *  There  must  be  something  that  led  up  to  this 
break,"  Mr.  Hale  persisted.  "You  must  have 
some  suspicion  of  what  it  is.  Why  did  you  go 
to  Baltimore,  Tom?" 

For  a  moment  Tom  did  not  answer.  When  he 
finally  spoke  his  voice  was  stern  and  his  face 
expressionless. 

"Mr.  Hale,  I  went  to  Baltimore  about  an 
affair  that  was  not  of  my  choosing  or  my  con- 
cern. That  is  all  I  can  tell  you.  You  may  think 
me  bitter  and  stubborn.  Perhaps  you  are  right. 
Your  daughter  rebuffed  me  last  night  through 
no  conscious  fault  of  mine.  I  wrote  to  her  yes- 
terday giving  a  full  account  of  my  movements 
since  I  last  saw  her.  That  was  while  I  still  felt 
that  I  owed  her  an  explanation.  Here  is  my 
letter  to  her,  returned  to  me  unopened.  Since 
she  cares  so  little  for  me  as  to  be  indifferent 
as  to  whether  I  merit  her  suspicions  or  not,  I 
do  not  care  to  explain  further.  This  envelope 


1 62  In  the  Web  of  Life 

contains  the  one  explanation  I  had  to  offer.  It 
is  the  last  I  shall  attempt  to  make." 

Slowly  he  tore  the  letter  across  several  times 
and  flung  it  into  the  waste  basket. 

John  Hale  watched  the  scraps  of  the  torn 
letter  flutter  down.  His  finely-lined,  aristocratic 
face  wore  a  peculiar  expression.  Finally  he 
laughed  whimsically. 

"Well,  of  course,  Tom,"  he  said  with  his  ac- 
customed kindness,  "if  I  can't  get  at  the  truth 
of  this  affair  except  by  piecing  together  those 
bits  of  paper,  I  shall  have  to  remain  in  igno- 
rance." He  paused.  "Still,"  he  added,  more 
gravely,  "I  think  you  are  making  a  mistake  in 
not  confiding  in  me.  It  is  a  rather  distasteful 
thought  to  me  that  the  love  which  I  believed 
Edith  had  for  you  should  be  lost  through  a 
matter  of  foolish  pride." 

"It  is  not  as  if  Edith  still  cared  for  me," 
Tom  reminded  him  with  quiet  dignity.  "You 
see,  sir,  she  has  shown  me  by  her  actions  and  I 
have  received  assurance  by  her  own  speech  that 
she  has  no  affection  for  me ;  even  that  she  pre- 
fers not  to  know  me.  As  long  as  I  had  the 
honor  of  being  engaged  to  her,  I  owed  her  an 
explanation.  But  now,  as  a  person  whom  she 


In  the  Web  of  Life  163 

does  not  desire  to  recognize,  I  feel  no  such 
responsibility  incumbent  upon  me." 

The  girl 's  father  seemed  to  study  the  pattern 
of  his  office  rug  for  a  long  moment  before  rais- 
ing his  eyes  and  meeting  Tom's  gaze. 

"I  wonder  if  it  would  help  matters  at  all," 
John  Hale  ventured,  watching  his  companion's 
face  keenly,  "if  I  were  to  do  all  in  my  power  to 
explain  present  conditions,  and  tell  you  that 
Edith  is  practically  engaged  to  Ealph,  your 
cousin?" 

If  he  had  expected  the  other  to  show  some 
sudden  emotion  at  this  bit  of  news  he  was  dis- 
appointed. 

"Indeed?"  Tom  returned,  his  voice  and  man- 
ner unperturbed.  "I  had  not  heard  of  that." 

An  awkward  silence  ensued,  then  Tom  rose 
to  his  feet. 

"If  there  is  nothing  more  that  you  wish  to 
speak  to  me  about,  sir,"  he  said  with  grave  cour- 
tesy, "I  will  excuse  myself.  I  am  very  busy 
to-day." 

"No,  there  is  nothing  more,"  responded  the 
other  regretfully.  "I  had  hoped  that  you 
would  be  able  to  explain  this  unfortunate  con- 
dition, or  at  least  that  you  would  show  a  willing- 


164  In  the  Web  of  Life 

ness  to  do  so.  I  see  that  I  was  mistaken.  Good- 
by,  my  boy." 

He  held  out  his  hand  with  the  gentle,  win- 
ning smile  which  his  daughter  had  inherited 
from  him,  and  which  was  one  of  her  chief  at- 
tractions. Tom's  face  softened. 

11  Please  don't  think  too  hard  of  me,  Mr. 
Hale,"  he  pleaded,  somewhat  huskily.  "And 
let  me  tell  you  this  much  before  I  go.  I  do 
appreciate  the  straightforward  way  in  which 
you  have  come  to  me,  and  I  can  say,  with  abso- 
lute frankness,  that  I  know  of  no  action  of  mine 
of  which  you  or  anyone  whom  you  love  need 
be  ashamed.  I  hope  never  to  do  anything  to 
forfeit  your  respect,  sir — for  your  regard  will 
always  mean  a  great  deal  to  me.  That  is  all. 
Good-by,  and  thank  you!" 

He  clasped  warmly  the  outstretched  hand, 
then  left  the  office  without  a  backward  glance. 

Downstairs,  at  the  entrance  to  the  great 
building,  he  stood  for  a  moment  and  passed  his 
hand  across  his  forehead. 

"Balph  is  engaged  to  her!"  he  murmured. 
"Kalph!  I  must  see  him.  I'll  go  to  him  now. 
He,  at  least,  can  explain,  and  he  shall.  I'll 
make  him  talk!" 


In  the  Web  of  Life  165 

There  was  no  one  but  the  clerk  in  his  cousin's 
office.  Mr.  Morton  was  not  in  town.  He  had 
been  here  for  a  little  while  during  the  morning, 
but  had  left  before  luncheon.  No,  it  was  im- 
possible to  tell  whether  he  would  be  in  to-mor- 
row or  not.  Was  there  any  message  f 

1 '  No, ' '  said  Tom.  Then,  with  a  sigh  of  weari- 
ness or  exasperation,  he  retraced  his  steps  to 
his  own  office. 

His  stenographer  looked  up  as  he  entered. 
"Your  mail  is  on  your  desk,  Mr.  Morton,"  he 
said.  "What's  the  matter,  sir?  You  look  done 
up  this  afternoon." 

"I'm  a  little  tired,  I  think,"  his  employer  re- 
plied, absently. 

The  western  sunlight  shining  brightly  on  his 
desk  brought  into  view  a  picture  standing  in  the 
interior  in  a  small  ivory  frame.  Tom  pushed  it 
back  into  the  shadow  before  taking  up  the 
sheaf  of  unopened  envelopes  which  lay  there. 
He  shuffled  over  the  letters,  only  half  conscious 
of  what  he  was  doing.  Then  he  started,  sud- 
denly awakened  to  an  appreciation  of  the  pres- 
ent. One  of  the  envelopes  was  addressed  to 
him  in  Ealph's  well-known  handwriting.  A 
hard,  gray  shadow  crossed  Tom  Morton's  face 


1 66  In  the  Web  of  Life 

as  lie  looked  at  it.    Then  he  tore  it  open  quickly. 

Inside  the  envelope  was  a  slip  of  pink  paper 
— nothing  more.  It  was  a  check  for  the  amount 
Ralph  had  asked  him  to  pay  to  Mrs.  Price.  Tom 
laid  it  away  methodically  in  a  drawer  of  his 
desk  and  sat  silent  for  a  time,  watching  the 
yellow  bar  of  sunlight  creep  up  his  office  wall. 

Hate,  elemental  hate,  took  possession  of  him 
as  he  sat  there ;  a  desire  for  vengeance  against 
the  man  who  had  stolen  his  love  from  him.  He 
did  not  pause  to  consider  whether  he,  Tom  Mor- 
ton, still  loved  Edith  Hale  or  not.  He  only 
knew  that  he  wanted  to  have  Ralph  before  him, 
to  meet  him  man  to  man,  and  square  accounts. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  picking  up  his  hat. 
* '  I  'm  going  home,  Harry, ' '  he  remarked.  '  *  I  Ve 
worked  enough  for  to-day.  Good  afternoon." 

His  manner  to  Washington  at  dinner  that 
night  was  such  as  to  fill  that  worthy  servitor 's 
soul  with  apprehension  lest  his  occasional  and 
small  " samplings"  of  the  contents  of  humi- 
dor and  cellarette  had  been  suspected.  Had 
the  negro  seen  the  expression  on  his  employer's 
countenance  when,  after  the  meal  was  over,  he 
sat  down  before  his  library  desk,  uneasiness 
would  have  changed  to  panic. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  167 

Yet  this  is  all  that  Tom  Morton  wrote: 

"My  Dear  Ealph:    Please  come  to  my  office 
some  time  to-morrow  afternoon.     Your  visit 
will  save  me  a  trip  to  Homewood. 
"  Yours  truly, 

"  THOMAS  MOBTON." 


Chapter  Twelve 

"Why  so  sad,  fair  lady?"  Ralph  Morton  de- 
manded teasingly. 

He  had  driven  his  automobile  close  to  the 
steps  of  the  Hale  home.  Just  above  him  stood 
Constance  Medford,  clipping  the  dried  blossoms 
from  a  veranda  box  of  plants.  So  absorbed  did 
she  appear  to  be  in  her  task,  or  her  own 
thoughts,  that  until  he  spoke  she  had  betrayed 
no  consciousness  of  Ralph's  presence.  When 
he  greeted  her  she  lifted  her  head  and  looked 
at  him  coldly. 

' '  Good  morning ! ' '  she  returned.  * '  Edith  will 
be  down  in  a  moment." 

She  bent  again  over  the  flower  box  while  the 
man  watched  her,  half  amused,  half  vexed.  He 
had  for  some  time  suspected  that  this  member 
of  the  Hale  household  disliked  him.  The  fact 
that  she  wished  to  avoid  him  did  not  daunt  him 
now.  It  was  too  bright  a  morning  for  one  to 
be  downcast,  and  he  was  progressing  too  favor- 
ably in  Edith's  regards  for  him  to  be  uncertain 
of  his  standing. 

1 68 


In  the  Web  of  Life  169 

"But  you  haven't  told  me  yet  why  you  look 
so  depressed,"  he  persisted  with  an  ingratiating 
smile. 

But  the  smile  was  lost  on  Constance,  for  she 
continued  her  work  without  looking  up. 

"If  I  am  depressed,"  she  said,  "you  must 
place  the  blame  on  the  world,  not  on  me." 

"But  it  seems  like  a  pretty  good  old  world 
to-day,"  Ealph  protested.  "It  surely  can't  be 
as  rotten  as  you  seem  to  think  it  is,  Constance." 

* '  Oh,  the  world  itself  is  all  right, ' '  responded 
the  girl,  brushing  the  soil  from  her  finger-tips. 
"But  some  of  the  people  in  it  are  very  'rotten,' 
as  you  phrase  it." 

Her  eyes  met  his  as  she  spoke  and  the  man 
found  himself  slightly  disconcerted  by  her 
grave  gaze.  To  cover  his  embarrassment,  he 
spoke  unthinkingly. 

"Present  company  is  always  excepted  in  that 
indictment,  of  course?"  he  rejoined  inquiringly, 
still  smiling. 

* '  As  you  please, ' '  Constance  replied.  ' '  There 
is  an  old  maxim,  with  which  you  are  doubtless 
familiar,  about  a  guilty  conscience  needing  no 
accuser.  "Whether  it  applies  in  this  connection 
or  not  you  know  better  than  I." 


170  In  the  Web  of  Life 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  quite  understand  you, 
Constance,"  Balph  said  with  a  ring  of  defiance 
in  his  voice. 

She  did  not  answer  at  once,  but  stood  looking 
out  over  the  sunny  stretch  of  lawn.  A  robin 
scurried  across  the  grass  and  her  eyes  followed 
it.  The  man  watching  her  could  not  know  that 
she  was  noting  the  beauty  of  the  Spring  morn- 
ing and  at  the  same  time  remembering  how,  in 
spite  of  all  the  lovely  things  in  life,  one  man 
was  sad  and  disappointed,  and  through  no  fault 
of  his  own.  The  remembrance  of  this  gave  her 
courage  to  speak  out  a  part  of  wiiat  was  in 
her  mind  as  her  eyes  returned  to  her  ques- 
tioner's face. 

"I'm  afraid  that  you  understand  me  only  too 
well,  Ralph,"  she  said  quietly.  "I  say  'afraid' 
because  I  love  my  cousin  Edith,  and  also  be- 
cause on  a  morning  like  this  I  want  to  feel  that 
all  the  world — all  my  world,  at  least — is  clean 
and  honest." 

"And  by  that  insinuation  you  mean  what?" 
the  man  challenged  angrily.  This  girl's  veiled 
allusions  spurred  him  on  to  learn  the  worst  of 
her  suspicions. 

VJust  what  you  think  I  mean,"  Constance 


In  the  Web  of  Life  171 

continued  in  a  steady  voice.  *  *  I  do  not  believe 
that  your  hands  are  clean  in  this  affair  about 
Tom  Morton — since  you  press  me  for  further 
information.  Nor  do  I  believe  that  you  have 
acted  the  part  that  an  honorable  man  should 
act.  I  would  not  have  said  this  of  my  own  ac- 
cord, Balph,  but  since  you  insist  upon  question- 
ing me,  I  must  be  honest. ' ' 

The  man  flushed,  then  grew  pale.  "That  is, 
please  remember,  only  your  personal  opinion, 
dear  lady,"  he  parried  with  attempted  light- 
ness. "Of  course  you  have  a  right  to  it,  no 
matter  how  uncomplimentary  it  may  be  to  me. 
I  have  known  for  some  time  that  you  disliked 
me — were  working  against  me.  But  when  you 
are  older  and  wiser,  you  may  not  be  so  ready 
to  make  use  of  a  woman's  privilege  of  insulting 
a  man,  unpunished.  Nevertheless,"  he  con- 
cluded with  a  sudden  outburst  of  resentment 
and  rage,  "I  should  like  to  see  the  man  who 
would  dare  say  such  a  thing  to  me ! ' ' 

"If  that  is  really  your  desire,"  Constance  re- 
plied, her  voice  and  lips  quivering  slightly, 
' '  why  not  call  on  Tom,  Kalph  f  He  would  per- 
haps be  less  polite  in  his  speech  than  I  have 
been,  but  he  is  a  man  and  a  strong  man.  You 


172  In  the  Web  of  Life 

would  have  no  compunction  with  regard  to  sex 
to  keep  you  from  avenging  the  'insult'  then. 
Why  not  go  to  see  him,  Ealph  ?"  she  mocked. 
"He  might  be  grateful  for  the  chance  of  talk- 
ing to  you  face  to  face." 

Her  companion's  eyes  showed  an  evil  gleam 
as  he  gave  a  short,  ugly  laugh. 

"Facts  speak  for  more  than  childish  suspi- 
cions," he  retorted.  "Tom  has  nobody  but 
himself  to  blame  for  what  has  occurred.  If 
you  knew  where  he  was  on  the  night  of  Edith's 
engagement  dinner  you  might  not  be  so  violent 
in  your  espousal  of  his  cause." 

The  girl  was  frightened  at  the  sudden  spasm 
of  wrath  that  gripped  her.  She  felt  her  hands 
close  upon  each  other,  while  red  spots  flashed 
before  her  eyes.  She  heard  her  own  voice  as 
if  it  were  the  voice  of  another  person. 

"You  know  that's  a  lie,  Ealph  Morton!"  she 
exclaimed,  her  face  as  white  as  the  morning 
gown  she  wore. 

Before  Ealph  could  reply,  the  front  door 
opened  and  Edith  Hale  hurried  out  upon  the 
veranda,  dressed  for  automobiling. 

"Hello!"  Ealph  greeted  her  with  a  relieved 
laugh,  alighting  from  the  car  and  running  up 


In  the  Web  of  Life  173 

the  steps  to  meet  her.  "I'm  glad  you've  come, 
for  Constance  and  I  have  just  been  wrangling 
shockingly. ' ' 

So  natural  was  his  manner  that  his  fiancee 
smiled  at  what  she  thought  was  his  jest. 

"Constance  got  awfully  angry  with  me,  too, 
a  while  ago — but  I  guess  she 's  gotten  over  it — 
haven't  you,  Connie?" 

But  Ealph  did  not  allow  Edith  to  wait  long 
enough  to  hear  her  cousin 's  reply,  or  to  see  the 
agitated  face  bent  over  the  plants,  but  lifted  the 
girl  bodily  into  the  car,  then  sprang  in  beside 
her. 

"Good-by,  Constance,"  he  called  back 
tauntingly,  as  the  car  rolled  down  the  drive. 
But  Constance  Medford  did  not  raise  her 
head. 

Even  after  the  car  bearing  Ealph  and  Edith 
had  disappeared  around  the  turn  of  the  road 
Constance  remained  where  the  pair  had  left  her, 
battling  to  regain  her  self-control.  When  she 
had  forced  back  the  tears  that  threatened  to  rise 
to  her  eyes,  and  steadied  her  twitching  lips,  she 
entered  the  house.  On  the  way  to  her  room  she 
met  her  aunt.  The  elderly  woman  greeted  her 
with  an  affectionate  smile. 


174  I"  the  Web  of  Life 

"Well,  Constance,  dear,"  she  asked,  "what 
are  you  going  to  do  with  yourself  now!" 

"Practice — after  I  have  washed  this  dirt 
from  my  hands,"  the  girl  replied.  "I've  been 
fussing  with  the  flowers  out  there  in  that  veran- 
da-box and  my  hands  are  very  grimy." 

"You've  managed  to  get  a  little  sunburned, 
too,"  Mrs.  Hale  observed,  glancing  at  the 
flushed  face.  Then,  as  her  niece  made  no  an- 
swer, she  patted  the  hot  cheeks  gently.  "You 
are  such  a  blessing  to  me  these  days,"  she  said. 
' '  Edith  is  so  changeable — poor  child ! — for  she 
has  been  so  upset.  Her  father,  too,  is  absent- 
minded  and  worried — although  he  always  makes 
an  effort  to  be  cheerful.  But  you  are  just  the 
same  all  the  time." 

"Indeed  I  am  not!"  Constance  protested. 
"Only  just  now  Ealph  and  Edith  accused  me  of 
being  cross  or  quarrelsome,  or  something  of 
the  kind — and  I  was,  too."  She  spoke  the 
words  lightly,  yet  there  was  a  hint  of  feeling 
in  the  tone  in  which  they  were  uttered.  Her 
aunt,  hearing  this,  spoke  soothingly. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "I  don't  care  whether  they 
said  you  were  cross  or  not.  I  know  you  weren  't  \ 
You  are  always  the  same  dear  girl." 


In  the  Web  of  Life  175 

1  'Not  inside!"  Constance  warned  her.  "I 
just  burn  with  rage  sometimes.  Perhaps " — 
laughing  tremulously — "that  is  why  I  am 
rather  thin.  My  inward  rages  burn  up  all  my 
superfluous  fat." 

Her  aunt  laughed,  too.  "I  have  never  seen 
you  show  any  bad  temper  in  all  your  life, ' '  she 
averred.  "And  I  am  sure  you  never  would 
unless  your  sense  of  justice  or  your  affections 
were  outraged.  If  you  loved  any  one  to  whom 
people  were  unjust,  of  course  you  would  get 
angry.  I  would  be  disappointed  in  you  if  you 
did  not," 

A  swift  wave  of  color,  deeper  than  the  flush 
that  was  already  there,  swept  across  the  girl's 
face.  To  hide  this  she  bent  and  kissed  her 
aunt. 

"Then  nobody  must  be  unjust  to  you,"  she 
remarked,  half-seriously,  "for  I  certainly  do 
love  you,  auntie." 

"I  know  you  do,  dearie,"  returned  the  elderly 
woman.  "And  now  I  mustn't  detain  you,  for 
I  know  you  want  to  get  to  your  music." 

Alone  in  her  room,  Constance's  cheeks  were 
slow  in  cooling.  Why,  she  demanded,  had  she 
felt  embarrassed  at  her  aunt's  speech  when  she 


176  In  the  Web  of  Life 

remembered  that  she  had  lost  her  temper  in 
espousing  Tom's  cause?  Eidiculous!  She 
crushed  the  thought  that  any  warmer  sentiment 
than  friendship  had  made  her  angry  when  his 
honor  had  been  attacked.  She  told  herself  that 
Tom  had  always  been  kind  and  courteous  to 
her,  and  that  she  felt  toward  him  just  what  she 
would  have  felt  toward  any  absent  person  whom 
she  liked  and  who  had  been  wrongfully  accused. 
Yet  she  knew  that  not  since  her  childhood  had 
she  been  seized  by  such  a  rage  as  had  possessed 
her  twice  to-day  when  Tom  Morton  had  been 
wronged  by  word  or  hint. 

She  dashed  cool  water  over  her  hot  face,  then 
resolutely  determined  not  to  let  her  thoughts 
stray  any  more  to  the  topic  that  had  agitated 
her.  Of  course  the  only  sentiment  she  had  for 
Tom  was  ordinary  friendship! 

With  this  assurance  to  herself,  she  went  down' 
to  her  practising.  But  thoughts  do  not  always 
obey  commands,  and,  although  one's  eyes  may 
be  upon  one's  notes,  one's  fancies  may  stray. 
As  Constance  Medford  played  this  morning  her 
mind  reverted  to  what  Ralph  Morton  had  said. 
She  remembered  how  angry  she  had  been  with 


In  the  Web  of  Life  177 

Edith  only  a  few  hours  ago,  and  how  later  she 
could  not  trust  herself  to  reply  to  the  girl's 
overtures  of  peace.  It  was  not  like  her,  Con- 
stance, to  lose  self-control.  She  was  sorry  she 
had  been  so  cross  to  Edith,  even  though  it  had 
been  a  cruel  thing  to  return  Tom's  letter  to 
him.  Yet  Constance  loved  her  cousin  and  was 
willing  to  apologize  to  her  for  her  hasty  speech. 
She  would  not  say  that  she  had  been  unjust  in 
reproving  Edith  for  returning  that  letter — yet 
she  could  say  truthfully  that  she  regretted  inter- 
fering in  an  affair  that  pertained  to  her  cousin 
and  not  to  herself.  As  to  Ealph — as  she  mused 
on  him,  on  his  insinuations  with  regard  to  his 
friend,  on  his  sneers,  on  his  suggestions  that 
Tom  had  been  dishonorably  detained  from  the 
engagement  dinner — the  anger  which  she  fan- 
cied she  had  subdued  returned  in  a  measure, 
and  her  playing  betrayed  her  indignation. 

Mrs.  Hale,  knitting  in  the  library  across  the 
hall,  looked  up  from  her  work  with  a  puzzled  ex- 
pression. It  was  wonderful  what  strength  that 
child  had  in  those  slender  little  fingers  of  hers ! 
With  a  half  smile  the  kind-hearted  matron 
arose  and  walked  to  the  drawing-room  door. 


178  In  the  Web  of  Life 

Here  she  stood  quietly  waiting  until  the  music 
stopped. 

' '  My  dear ! ' '  she  exclaimed  then, ' '  how  do  you 
ever  play  with  such  force?  What  has  gotten 
into  you  to-day?" 

Constance  sprang  to  her  feet.  So  absorbed 
had  she  been  in  her  own  reflections  that  even 
the  gentle  voice  of  her  aunt  had  come  as  a  shock 
to  her. 

"Oh!"  she  ejaculated  nervously.  "I  did  not 
know  you  were  so  near !  Did  I  play  with  more 
vigor  than  usual?" 

"You  surely  did,"  her  aunt  declared.  "I 
never  heard  you  play  anything  in  that  way  be- 
fore." 

"But,"  Constance  tried  to  explain,  "you 
know  that  'Bide  of  the  Valkyries'  is  a  noisy 
thing  anyway,  with  the  clashing  of  brasses 
and " 

She  stopped,  stammering  at  her  own  confu- 
sion. 

"I  think,"  her  aunt  suggested,  "that  you 
may  have  played  it  harder  than  usual  just  now 
because  you  were  thinking  harder  than  usual." 

"Yes,"  Constance  admitted,  without  looking 
up,  "I  was  thinking  much  harder  than  usual!" 


In  the  Web  of  Life  179 


"You  are  right,  my  dear,"  Ralph  declared 
sententiously,  "Constance  is  cross  this  morn- 
ing." 

The  betrothed  pair  had  ridden  some  miles  be- 
fore the  man  made  this  assertion.  Edith  had 
allowed  him  his  own  will  so  far  as  conversation 
went,  and  he  had  talked  about  himself,  his  views 
of  life  and  his  experiences — casting  over  every 
incident  a  rose-colored  light  in  which  he  ap- 
peared especially  well.  His  companion  was  in- 
terested, in  a  way,  in  all  that  pertained  to  Ralph, 
but  her  mind  was  full  of  the  beauty  of  the  day, 
the  joy  of  being  loved  by  one  man — perhaps 
more — and  petted  by  her  family  and  friends. 
She  had  gone  little  into  the  social  world  until 
she  had  made  her  bow  to  society  last  Autumn. 
Now,  as  her  lover  talked  on,  she  mused  of  her 
little  triumphs  since  then,  and  felt  herself  very 
fortunate.  She  was  aware  that  the  man  who 
sat  by  her  side  was  considered  handsome  and 
clever,  and  that  many  of  the  girls  of  her  ac- 
quaintance would  be  much  flattered  by  his  at- 
tentions. So,  if  she  did  not  love  him  much, 
there  was  in  her  heart  a  pride  of  possession 


180  In  the  Web  of  Life 

that  seemed  to  her  inexperience  to  be  ''the  real 
thing." 

Perhaps  Ralph  Morton  felt  a  lack  of  enthusi- 
asm in  her  desultory  responses  to  his  some- 
what egotistical  communications,  for,  after 
waiting  in  vain  for  her  to  express  admiration  of 
his  conduct  in  some  escapades  of  which  he  had 
just  told  her,  he  broke  the  ensuing  silence  with 
the  remark  quoted  above.  It  had  the  effect  of 
arousing  his  listener  to  animation. 

' '  Oh, ' '  she  protested.  * '  I  did  not  really  mean 
that  Constance  was  cross.  I  should  not  have 
said  that.  But  to  tell  the  truth  she  did  get 
suddenly  angry  after  breakfast  when  I  told 
her  I  had  returned  Tom's  letter  to  him  un- 
opened. ' ' 

Ealph's  face  darkened.  "She  got  angry,  did 
she?"  he  queried. 

"Oh,  yes,"  Edith  replied,  her  light  laugh 
evincing  how  little  rancor  she  felt  toward  her 
cousin.  "It  was  awfully  funny,  although  at 
first  she  actually  scared  me,  for  she  spoke  so 
sharply.  But  I  know  she  didn't  mean  it.  It 
was  just  a  whim  of  the  moment." 

"Well,  it  lasted  until  my  arrival  or  returned 
when  I  spoke  out  an  honest  thought,"  Ralph 


In  the  Web  of  Life  181 

said.  "She  flew  into  a  white  rage  with  me, 
too." 

Edith  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "Are  you 
sure  she  was  not  in  fun  I ' '  she  asked. 

"No,  my  dear;  she  was  far  from  fun,"  he  re- 
plied gravely. 

1 '  But  what  under  the  sun  could  you  have  said 
to  make  her  angry  with  you  I ' '  Edith  wondered. 

"I  had  the  temerity  to  touch  upon  the  same 
subject  that  you  touched  upon,"  Ealph  told  her. 
"I  suggested  that  Tom  was  not  a  Bayard 
without  fear  and  without  reproach,  and  she 
very  plainly  and  distinctly  informed  me  that 
my  statement  was  'a  lie.'  I  quote  her  own 
words." 

' '  Ealph ! ' '  Edith  sat  up  very  straight.  ' '  You 
don 't  mean  she  said  that ! ' ' 

"  I  do  mean  it,  dearest.  She  said  exactly  that. 
You  can  hardly  blame  me  for  resenting  her 
speech.  It's  what  a  man  would  call  a  fighting 
word,  you  know — to  tell  a  person  he  lies!" 

Astonishment  held  Edith  speechless  until 
they  had  reached  the  top  of  a  hill  commanding 
a  glimpse  of  the  Hudson. 

"Yes,  it's  beautiful,"  she  assented,  absent- 
mindedly,  as  her  companion  called  her  attention 


1 82  In  the  Web  of  Life 

to  the  view  below  them.  Then  she  asked 
abruptly:  " Ralph,  what  do  you  suppose  made 
Constance  speak  to  you  in  that  way?  Do  you 
know?" 

The  man  seemed  to  hesitate  before  replying. 
He  was  guiding  his  car  down  the  steep  road  on 
the  other  side  of  the  hill  they  had  just  mounted, 
which  may  have  accounted  for  his  hesitation. 
When  he  spoke  at  last  it  was  with  apparent 
reluctance. 

"I  don't  like  to  say  that  I  know  why  she  lost 
her  temper  with  me,"  he  said,  "but  I  have  my 
suspicions.  And  as  there  are  to  be  no  secrets 
between  you  and  me,  dearest,  perhaps  I  ought 
to  tell  you  what  I  suspect.  You  know  that  Con- 
stance and  Tom  have  been  good  friends  ever 
since  she  visited  you  some  years  ago — long 
before  her  father's  death." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Edith,  "at  least  they 
got  on  pleasantly  together  when  they  met  in 
my  house.  But  that  would  hardly  account  for 
her  resenting  so  hotly  any  criticism  of  him." 

"No?  Well,  then,  I  must  explain  further. 
She  is  in  Tom's  confidence.  He  has  told  her 
about  various  affairs  he  has  had.  He  may  need 
money.  She  knows  that,  too.  She  has  urged 


In  the  Web  of  Life  183 

you  to  accept  Tom,  has  wanted  you  to  marry 
him." 

"But  why?"  asked  Edith  more  puzzled  than 
ever. 

"Because  he  is  her  friend.  She  is  poor  and 
a  dependent.  As  long  as  he  has  money  he  will 
see  that  she  is  provided  for." 

He  paused,  but  the  girl  at  his  side  still  looked 
mystified.  "Yet  I  don't  understand,"  she 
said. 

"I  can't  put  it  much  more  plainly,"  Ralph 
objected  embarrassedly.  ' '  But  surely  you  know 
that  were  Tom  married  to  you  his  financial 
troubles  would  cease." 

He  stopped,  startled  by  the  girl's  sudden  ex- 
clamation. "Oh!"  she  gasped,  "you  don't 
mean  that  Tom  ever  thought  of  my  money " 

She  said  no  more,  for  the  man  had  brought 
the  car  to  a  standstill  on  the  lonely  country 
road,  and  as  she  lifted  her  distressed  face  to 
his,  he  drew  her  to  him  and  kissed  her  ten- 
derly. 

"Yes,"  he  murmured,  "my  poor,  trustful 
little  girl,  that  is  just  what  I  mean.  And  when 
I  think  that  any  man  could  consider  your  money 


184  In  the  Web  of  Life 

in  asking  you  to  marry  him — I  feel  as  if  I  could 
kill  "him  with  my  own  hands ! ' ' 

"And — and "  the  girl  faltered,  "you  be- 
lieve that  Connie  considered  my  marriage  to 
Tom  from  that  viewpoint  ?  I  can 't  think  that ! ' ' 

"Dear,"  the  man  argued  compassionately, 
"how  could  she  help  it  when  he  showed  it  to 
her?  He  is  the  one  to  blame.  Of  herself  per- 
haps she  would  never  have  thought  of  it.  Now, 
darling — now  do  you  understand  why  it  is  that 
I — loving  you  so  that  if  you  were  a  beggar  I 
should  still  consider  you  my  queen — feel  as  I  do 
about  Tom?  Do  you  understand  it  now?" 

But  shocked  surprise,  disappointment  and 
wounded  pride  made  it  impossible  for  Edith  to 
do  more  than  nod  her  assent.  Yet  as  the  man 
noted  her  agitation  his  eyes  did  not  soften.  In- 
stead, a  look  of  triumph  stole  into  them  as  if  he 
already  anticipated  a  satisfactory  crop  from 
the  seed  which  he  had  sown. 


Chapter  Thirteen 

The  sound  of  an  automobile  coming  up  the 
driveway  drew  Constance  to  the  window  of  her 
room  where  she  had  been  sitting  since  leaving 
the  piano  a  half  hour  ago.  She  had  been  trying 
to  finish  a  dainty  shirtwaist  she  was  embroider- 
ing for  Edith,  but  her  fingers  were  not  as  steady 
as  usual  and  she  had  set  the  regular  stitches 
with  difficulty.  She  was  strangely  agitated  to- 
day, disturbed  by  a  feeling  as  if  something  of 
an  unusual  nature  were  about  to  happen.  She 
welcomed  the  sound  of  the  approaching  motor 
car  as  an  excuse  for  abandoning  her  sewing  and 
looking  out  of  the  window.  She  was  not  often 
so  easily  allured  from  any  task. 

"It's  only  Ealph  and  Edith,'*  she  murmured 
as  the  car  came  slowly  around  the  turn  in  the 
driveway.  "He  looks  self-satisfied,  as  usual. 
But  Edith  doesn't  seem  happy.  I  wonder  what 
he's  been  saying  to  her." 

She  heard  her  aunt  greet  the  pair  at  the  front 
door  when  the  automobile  had  come  to  a  stand- 
still. Mrs.  Hale's  voice  urging  Ralph  to  stay 
1185 


1 86  In  the  Web  of  Life 

to  luncheon  rang  out  clearly  and  the  man's 
polite  declination  was  borne  to  Constance's 
ears.  If  Edith  spoke  it  was  in  such  a  low  voice 
that  her  cousin  did  not  hear  her.  Evidently 
she  was  in  a  quiet  mood.  The  listener's  con- 
science smote  her  as  she  thought  that  possibly 
her  own  impatient  speech  of  several  hours  ago 
and  her  silence  at  Edith's  advances  toward 
peace  had  added  to  the  girl's  depression.  She 
determined  that  she  would  do  her  part  toward 
healing  the  breach — if  breach  there  were.  To 
this  end  she  opened  her  door  as  she  heard  Edith 
coming  upstairs. 

"Come  in  here,  dear,  won't  you?"  she  called 
cheerily. 

Edith  paused  in  the  doorway,  looking  fixedly 
at  the  speaker. 

"Why?"  she  asked.  "Have  you  anything 
special  to  say  to  me  ? ' ' 

* '  Come  in  and  I  '11  tell  you, ' '  Constance  urged. 
Then,  as  the  girl  obeyed,  Constance  closed  the 
door  behind  them  both,  and  turning  to  her 
companion  put  her  arm  about  her. 

"Dear,"  she  said,  "forgive  me  for  being  so 
sharp  in  my  speech  this  morning.  And  for- 
give me  also  for  not  answering  you  when  you 


In  the  Web  of  Life  187 

spoke  jestingly  to  me  as  you  were  starting  off 
on  your  drive.  At  that  minute  I  could  not 
reply,  for  I  was  nervous  and  foolishly  upset, 
and  was  afraid  to  trust  my  voice  lest  I  show 
some  emotion.  But  I  was  not  angry  with  you 
then,  dear.  As  to  what  I  said  to  you  this  morn- 
ing about  your  having  returned  that  letter — 
you  must  please  pardon  it.  I  spoke  on  the  im- 
pulse of  the  moment,  and  about  a  matter  that 
was  none  of  my  business.  I  am  sure  you  love 
me  enough  to  overlook  it  all,  don't  you,  Edith?" 

Edith  had  drawn  herself  from  her  cousin's 
embrace,  but  so  gently  that  the  movement  did 
not  seem  like  the  outcome  of  anger. 

"There's  no  need  to  apologize,"  she  said, 
gravely.  *  *  From  what  Ralph  tells  me  you  were 
vexed  with  him  for  the  same  reason  that  you 
were  vexed  with  me.  He  has  also  mentioned 
other  things  that  hurt  me  so  much  more  than 
your  temper  did  that  I  can  excuse  that." 

"What  things?"  demanded  Constance, 
steadying  her  voice  and  concealing  her  wounded 
surprise  at  Edith's  lack  of  response  to  her 
appeal. 

"Oh,  they  all  pertain  to  the  same  person,  of 
course."  Edith  paused,  then  began  to  remove 


In  the  Web  of  Life 


the  veil  from  her  hat,  lifting  her  hands  and 
bending  her  head  so  that  Constance  could  not 
see  the  expression  of  her  face,  and  when  she 
spoke  again  her  voice  was  somewhat  muffled  by 
her  attitude.  "But  you  know  without  my  tell- 
ing you  who  that  person  is — Tom  Morton,  your 
friend  and  my  enemy." 

'  *  Your  enemy ! ' '  echoed  Constance.  ' '  Scarcely 
that,  Edith — although  you  and  he  have  had  a 
misunderstanding. ' ' 

"A  misunderstanding!"  Edith  exclaimed. 
"No,  an  understanding!  For  now  I  under- 
stand what  he  has  been  and  is.  Only  this  morn- 
ing I  have  learned  that  you  and  he  understand 
each  other  in  a  still  different  way!  Oh,  when 
I  think  of  it  all  I  see  what  a  fool  I  have  been 
all  along!" 

Constance  noted  the  girl's  growing  excite- 
ment and  strove  to  check  it. 

"Edith,"  she  begged,  "don't  let  yourself  say 
things  you  may  regret  later,  things  that  are,  at 
the  worst,  but  suspicions.  Wait,  dear,  until  you 
have  had  time  to  think,  until  you  and  I  have  had 
a  quiet  talk  together." 

But  the  agitated  creature  flung  off  the  hand 
the  other  laid  on  her  arm. 


In  the  Web  of  Life 


1 1 A  quiet  talk ! ' '  she  exclaimed.  ' '  Suspicions ! 
No,  there  is  no  quiet  talk  that  I  care  to  have 
with  you,  Constance.  As  to  what  you  call  sus- 
picions—they are  facts,  and  you  need  not  try  to 
make  me  believe  otherwise  by  hinting  that 
Ealph  is  anything  but  good  and  honorable.  You 
made  me  believe — or  tried  to  make  me  believe 
— that  Tom  was  good.  But  you  cannot  make 
me  believe  that  Ralph  is  bad — now  that  I  know 
you  and  Tom  are  in  league  together  against 
him." 

Constance 's  eyes  flashed  and  her  breath  came 
quickly.  "It  is  time  that  I  demanded  an  expla- 
nation ! ' '  she  declared.  * '  What  do  you  mean  by 
that  speech?" 

"I  will  not  tell  you!"  exclaimed  Edith. 
"What  would  be  the  use?  You  know  it  all  al- 
ready. But  it  is  my  father  whom  I  shall  tell! 
He  shall  know  the  whole  truth ! ' ' 

She  hesitated,  then  as  her  eyes  met  Con- 
stance's stern  gaze  she  turned  away  abruptly, 
controlling  her  voice  and  manner  by  a  mighty 
effort. 

"If  you  will  excuse  me,"  she  said,  formally, 
"I  will  go  to  my  room  now  and  get  ready  for 
luncheon.  And  I  must  ask  you  as  an  especial 


190  In  the  Web  of  Life 

favor  not  to  talk  about  this  matter  to  my  father 
until  I  have  had  time  to  do  so  myself." 

"I  do  not  promise  to  grant  that  favor,"  Con- 
stance returned  firmly,  "but  I  can  assure  you 
that  my  manner  shall  not  betray  to  him  or  aunt 
that  you  and  I  are  not  on  pleasant  terms." 

Edith  started  as  if  to  speak,  but,  changing 
her  mind,  walked  quickly  away,  and  as  she  left 
the  room  Constance  Medford  made  no  move- 
ment to  detain  her. 

It  spoke  well  for  the  breeding  of  Edith  Hale 
and  Constance  Medford  that  while  they  sat  at 
luncheon  with  Mrs.  Hale  the  elderly  woman  did 
not  suspect  that  any  altercation  had  occurred 
between  the  two  girls.  The  meal  ended,  Edith 
remarked  that  she  thought  she  would  go  into 
town  to  do  a  little  shopping. 

"There  are  several  things  I  need,"  she  ob- 
served, "and  this  is  as  good  a  time  as  any  to 
get  them,  for  I  happen  to  have  no  engagement 
for  this  afternoon.  I  shall  go  to  father's  office 
and  come  out  on  the  train  with  him." 

She  glanced  at  Constance  as  she  said  this. 
The  older  girl  interpreted  the  look  to  mean 
that  her  cousin  would  now  have  an  opportunity 
to  tell  her  father  of  Ralph's  insinuations.  The 


In  the  Web  of  Life  191 

sudden  qualm  that  assailed  Constance  was 
quickly  replaced  by  a  feeling  of  security  in  the 
wisdom  of  her  uncle's  judgment  and  in  his  trust 
in  the  orphan  girl  to  whom  he  had  been  so  kind. 
He,  John  Hale,  would  not  believe  anything 
against  his  wife's  niece  unless  he  heard  some- 
thing from  Constance's  own  lips  that  would 
disappoint  him  in  his  present  faith  in  her. 
Could  Edith  really  believe  Balph's  statements? 
Yet  she  knew  that  the  man  would  tell  such  a 
plausible  story  that  it  would  be  hard  for  the 
most  judicial  listener  to  discredit  it. 

What  could  she  do — she,  a  solitary  girl — to 
protect  herself  against  the  calumny  of  a  design- 
ing man  f  Would  it  do  any  good  if  she  were  to 
have  a  frank  talk  with  him,  were  to  ask  him  why 
he  hated  her?  Yet  even  as  she  pondered  she 
knew  that  the  reason  he  hated  her  was  because 
she  saw  through  his  subterfuges,  because  she 
was  Tom  Morton's  friend  and  advocate,  and 
because  Edith  and  her  money  were  at  present 
the  aim  of  Ealph's  existence.  He  would  do  his 
best  to  ruin  Tom  Morton  in  the  eyes  of  Edith's 
parents  if  by  thus  doing  he  could  strengthen 
his  own  standing  in  the  family  and  banish  Tom 
from  the  circle  of  their  acquaintances. 


192  In  the  Web  of  Life 

Once  more  in  her  own  room  with  time  to 
think  collectedly,  Constance  Medford  appreci- 
ated keenly  the  loneliness  of  her  position.  Yet 
what  she  did  not  appreciate  was  the  feeling  of 
distrust  and  wrathful  resentment  that  had  taken 
possession  of  Edith.  It  was  the  first  time  in 
John  Hale's  spoiled  child's  career  that  she  had 
ever  had  occasion  to  suspect  that  a  person 
courted  her  for  any  reason  except  to  win  the 
friendship  or  affection  of  her  attractive  self. 
The  idea  that  the  man  who,  she  had  flattered 
herself,  loved  her,  that  the  cousin  who  had 
petted  and  indulged  her,  should  have  schemed 
to  sacrifice  her  to  their  desire  for  her  money — 
in  fact,  should  have  formed  a  vile  conspiracy 
against  her,  had  changed  all  the  sweetness  in 
her  nature  into  the  gall  of  bitterness.  A  vain 
woman  cannot  forgive  such  a  blow  to  her  van- 
ity and  self-love. 

But  this  Constance  did  not  know.  Therefore 
when  a  light  tap  sounded  on  her  door,  she  said 
* '  Come  in ! ' '  with  no  premonition  of  the  painful 
scene  ahead  of  her.  To  her  surprise,  her  cousin 
entered,  dressed  for  her  trip  to  town. 

" Excuse  me  for  intruding,"  Edith  said 
coldly,  "but  I  happened  to  notice  when  I  was 


In  the  Web  of  Life  193 

in  here  this  noon  that  you  had  been  working 
on  that  blouse  which  you  are  embroidering  for 
me.  I  just  stopped  in  now  to  ask  you  not  to 
trouble  to  finish  it.  I  would  rather  not  have  it. ' ' 

A  hurt  that  was  almost  like  a  physical  pain 
made  Constance  draw  in  her  breath  sharply. 
She  replied  at  once,  however,  and  in  a  natural 
tone. 

"That  must  be  as  you  wish,"  she  said.  "It 
has  been  a  pleasure  to  me  to  do  this  little  bit 
of  sewing  for  you.  You  know  I  selected  the 
shade  of  pink  that  you  like  best,  and  I  have 
made  the  blouse  especially  for  you.  It  has  been 
a  labor  of  love,  Edith." 

"Scarcely  that,  I  think,"  said  the  younger 
girl.  "I  have  no  wish  to  discuss  a  painful  mat- 
ter with  you,  Constance.  But  you  must  under- 
stand that  as  I  am  engaged  to  a  man  whom  you 
wish  to  injure  I  can  hardly  accept  a  so-called 
love-token  from  you.  Yet,  since  you  remind 
me  that  you  selected  this  material  and  did  the 
work  for  me,  I  do  not  want  to  put  you  to  any 
loss.  Therefore  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  buy 
the  waist  from  you." 

Constance  flushed  darkly  and  an  angry  glow- 
sprang  to  her  eyes.  She  closed  the  door,  and, 


194  In  the  Web  of  Life 

putting  her  back  against  it,  faced  the  sneering 
girl. 

"See  here,"  she  said  slowly,  and  in  a  tone 
that  did  not  sound  like  her  own,  so  hard  and 
cold  was  it,  "you  do  not  wish  to  talk  over  a 
painful  matter,  but  you  do  not  hesitate  to  say 
things  that  I  insist  you  shall  explain.  And  you 
shall  not  leave  this  room  until  you  tell  me  what 
you  mean." 

Edith  threw  her  head  back  defiantly.  "So 
that  is  your  idea,  is  it?"  she  said.  "I  did  not 
intend  to  say  more,  yet  you  drive  me  to  it.  You 
really  wish  to  know  what  I  mean?" 

"I  do!"  Constance  challenged  in  her  turn. 

Edith  Hale  let  her  last  hold  on  her  self-con- 
trol go.  Her  whole  frame  seemed  to  radiate 
the  rage  that  possessed  her. 

"Very  well!  Then  you  have  yourself  to 
blame,  not  me,  if  you  hear  the  truth.  I  learned 
to-day  that  Tom  Morton  wanted  to  marry  me 
for  my  money,"  she  shuddered  as  she  said  the 
words,  "and  that  as  you  and  he  are  intimate 
you  were  to  help  him  win  me.  Yes,"  as  Con- 
stance grew  deadly  pale  and  shrank  back  in 
horror,  "it  sounds  pretty  bad  to  you,  doesn't 
it?  Think  how  it  sounded  to  me  who  have 


In  the  Web  of  Life  195 

trusted  you !  And  to  accomplish  your  ends  you 
have  tried  to  poison  my  mind  against  the  man 
who  loves  me  for  myself  only.  Can  you  deny 
that  you  warned  me  against  Ralph!" 

She  paused,  but  as  Constance  did  not  answer 
immediately,  hurried  on.  "Your  silence  gives 
consent,"  she  accused.  "Dare  you  deny  that 
you  have  shown  a  distrust  in  Ralph,  that 
you  have  tried  to  convince  me  of  Tom's  good- 
ness and  to  bring  about  my  marriage  to  him? 
Dare  you  deny  that  you  and  he  have " 

She  stopped,  appalled  for  the  instant  at  the 
look  on  her  cousin's  face.  Before  she  could 
make  another  accusation  Constance  flung  the 
door  wide  open  and  pointed  to  it,  her  eyes  flash- 
ing, her  lips  twitching. 

"Leave  this  room  at  once!"  she  ordered  in 
a  low,  tense  voice. 

As  if  hypnotized,  Edith  started  toward  the 
hall,  but  in  the  doorway  turned  to  send  back  a 
.Parthian  arrow. 

"You  will  please  remember,"  she  sneered, 
"that  this  is  one  of  my  father's  rooms  you  are 
ordering  his  daughter  out  of!" 

But  the  white-faced  girl,  staring  blankly  at 
her,  seemed  too  much  dazed  to  reply. 


196  In  the  Web  of  Life 

Constance  Medford  was  no  saint.  Sorrow 
and  bereavement  had  taught  her  a  certain 
amount  of  unselfishness  and  consideration  for 
other  people.  These  lessons  she  had  acquired 
with  more  ease  than  would  one  of  a  less  sunny 
temper.  But  at  heart  she  was  proud.  Sincere 
herself,  she  could  not  stand  any  doubt  of  her 
sincerity.  To  her  a  lie  was  a  mean  sin.  Having 
lived  for  years  with  her  father  she  had  learned 
to  despise  deception,  for  he  had  been  an  hon- 
orable gentleman.  In  him  she  had  found  her 
best-loved  companion.  The  one  girl  who,  she 
felt,  knew  her  intimately,  had  been  her  cousin 
Edith.  When  Arthur  Medford  died  his  heart- 
broken daughter  had  thought  at  once  of  the 
only  relatives  whom  she  loved.  They  had 
thought  of  her  as  swiftly  and  had  come  to  her, 
bearing  her  off  to  their  home.  She  was  sure 
that  Edith  had  complete  faith  in  her,  that  the 
girl  had  never  grudged  any  of  the  favors 
shown  by  John  Hale  and  his  wife.  While  Con- 
stance recognized  that  Edith's  nature  was  not 
deep,  while  she  occasionally  felt  a  passing  an- 
noyance with  her  facile  likes  and  dislikes,  she 
had  always  loved  her  and  had  been  confident 
of  Edith's  affection  for  herself.  The  younger 


In  the  Web  of  Life  197 

girl  had  turned  to  her  in  perplexities  of  all 
kinds — a  sure  proof  of  one's  trust  in  a  friend. 

All  these  things  Constance  remembered  in  the 
hours  in  which  she  was  alone  through  the  fair 
May  afternoon.  Her  aunt  came  to  her  room  and 
asked  her  if  she  would  care  to  make  some  calls 
with  her,  but  Constance  pleaded  a  headache  as 
an  excuse  for  declining  the  invitation. 

* '  It  is  kind  of  you  to  ask  me,  aunt, ' '  she  said 
wistfully. 

"I'm  sorry  you  can't  go,  dear  child,"  Mrs. 
Hale  regretted.  "But  you  do  look  pale  and 
sick.  Lie  down  now,  dear,  and  let  me  darken 
your  room." 

It  was  easier  to  yield  than  to  resist,  Con- 
stance thought,  and  lay  down  obediently  while 
her  aunt  closed  the  shutters  and  threw  a  light 
cover  over  her.  When,  after  kissing  her  again, 
she  had  gone  out,  Constance  lay  still  until  she 
heard  the  Hale  automobile  drive  away.  Then 
she  sat  up  in  the  darkened  room,  her  hands 
clasping  her  throbbing  head,  and  tried  to  think 
out  the  situation.  And  the  '  *  thoughts  of  youth" 
that  are  "long,  long  thoughts ' '  drove  her  nearly 
wild. 

Certain  facts  stood  out  clearly  before  her. 


198  In  the  Web  of  Life 

One  was  that  Ralph  Morton  hated  her  and  was 
trying  to  injure  her,  but  this  in  itself  troubled 
her  little.  That  he  had  succeeded  in  making 
Edith,  her  pet  and  best  girl  friend,  believe  his 
scurrilous  lies,  ate  into  her  very  soul.  That 
John  Hale  might  question  her  terrified  her. 
Not  that  she  was  afraid  for  herself,  but  she 
simply  could  not  tell  him  of  the  cruel  things 
his  daughter,  his  only  and  darling  child,  had 
said  to  a  lonely  girl,  a  beneficiary  of  his  bounty. 
That  was  what  hurt — the  hopelessness  of  ever 
clearing  up  the  situation.  Here  was  she,  Con- 
stance Medford,  making  her  home  in  the  house 
of  a  man  whose  daughter  believed  her  to  be  a 
vile  schemer,  who  even  taunted  her  with  the  fact 
that  she  was  a  dependent. 

As  she  pondered  the  situation  she  reached 
the  only  decision  possible.  She  could  not  con- 
tinue to  live  here,  since  she  could  not  let  her 
uncle  know  what  Ralph  had  said.  For  if  she 
did,  he  would  renounce  Ralph  and  thus  Edith 
would  be  made  wretched.  But  where  should  she 
go!  She  could  support  herself  in  a  way  by 
teaching  music,  but  as  her  pupils  were  all  in 
Homewood  what  would  she  do  if  she  left  this 
place?  It  would  make  disagreeable  comment 


In  the  Web  of  Life  199 

were  she  to  board  in  this  town  now  after  hav- 
ing made  her  home  with  her  relatives.  The  only 
thing  for  her  to  do  would  be  to  board  in  New 
York  and  commute  daily  to  Homewood.  She 
would  explain  this  to  her  uncle. 

The  sinking  sun  was  casting  level  rays  into 
her  room  when  at  last  she  appreciated  that  the 
afternoon  had  passed,  and  that  the  family  would 
soon  return  home.  She  would  make  herself  pre- 
sentable, for  life  must  be  lived  no  matter  how 
one's  plans  and  hopes  have  been  upset. 

She  was  dressed  for  dinner  when  her  uncle 
sent  word  to  her  that  he  would  like  to  see  her 
in  the  library.  She  had  heard  him  and  Edith 
arrive  some  minutes  earlier,  and  had  been 
dreading  this  summons. 

She,  like  Ralph  when  he  had  so  recently  been 
ushered  into  this  room,  was  glad  to  find  John 
Hale  alone.  Edith  had  gone  upstairs. 

"Come  in,  Constance,  and  sit  down,"  her 
uncle  said  kindly.  Yet  there  was  a  constraint 
about  his  manner  that  the  girl  felt.  *  *  I  want  to 
ask  you  a  question  or  two." 

The  questions  were  delicately  put.  John  Hale 
had  learned  from  Edith  that  Constance  and  she 
had  had  some  bitter  words  as  a  result  of  an 


2OO  In  the  Web  of  Life 

accusation  that  the  younger  girl  had  made 
against  the  older  one. 

"I  asked  Edith  to  tell  me  what  she  accused 
you  of,  but  all  I  could  learn  was  that  one  of 
the  items  was  a  partiality  for  Tom  rather  than 
for  Kalph,"  John  Hale  said.  "I  could  hardly 
blame  you  for  that,"  he  tried  to  smile,  "since, 
as  you  know,  I  favored  Tom's  suit  myself. 
Yet,"  becoming  grave  again,  "Edith  tells  me 
that  she  urged  you  to  deny  certain  things  which 
she  was  forced  to  believe,  and  that  you  could 
not  do  this." 

He  paused,  as  if  hoping  his  listener  would 
make  some  comment,  but  she  said  nothing. 

'  *  Edith, ' '  he  continued, ' '  was  undoubtedly  de- 
terred from  telling  me  just  what  passed  between 
you  and  her  for  fear  she  might  seem  disloyal  to 
you  if  she  said  too  much — I  mean  she  probably 
refused  to  go  into  particulars  as  to  what  she 
had  heard,  preferring  to  stand  by  you  in  this 
matter." 

The  face  at  which  he  was  gazing  underwent 
a  swift  change.  Something  that  was  almost 
like  a  bitter  smile  twisted  the  pale  lips.  The 
expression  of  cynicism  irritated  the  man,  and 
he  spoke  out  impulsively. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  201 

" Putting  all  that  aside" — he  said  harshly, 
"what  surprises  me  most,  Constance,  is  that 
my  daughter  declares  that  you  ordered  her  out 
of  your  room,  that  you  were  so  swept  away  by 
wrath  that  you  could  do  this  to  Edith — the  girl 
who  has  always  loved  you!  I  cannot  imagine 
that  anything  that  child  could  say  could  make 
you  as  angry  as  that.  I  hope  you  regret  the 
action  now?" 

But  though  he  waited  for  a  reply,  Constance 
still  sat  before  him,  silent. 

"Surely,"  he  urged,  his  voice  softening,  "you 
are  sorry  for  what  you  did?"  And  again  he 
paused,  waiting  for  the  answer  that  did  not 
come. 


Chapter  Fourteen 

Some  of  the  moments  that  are  like  hours  fol- 
lowed John  Hale's  appeal  to  Constance  Med- 
ford.  To  the  man  they  were  long;  to  the  girl 
they  seemed  an  eternity.  She  was  silent,  not 
from  obstinacy,  but  from  actual  inability  to  ex- 
press herself.  The  fact  that  in  justice  to  oth- 
ers she  could  not  speak  the  truth  held  her  dumb. 
She  had  grown  very  pale,  and  a  great  pity  for 
her  moved  her  companion.  He  longed  to  draw 
the  lonely  girl  to  him  and  tell  her  that  he 
wanted  to  help  her.  Of  course  she  had  lost  all 
self-control  for  a  moment,  yet  she  was  sorry 
for  it  now. 

But  his  kindly  impulses  received  a  shock 
when,  as  he  repeated,  "I  am  sure  you  are  sorry 
now, ' '  the  girl  said  resolutely : 

"I  am  sorry  to  displease  you,  uncle.  But  I 
cannot  truthfully  say  that  I  regret  my  action." 

John  Hale  started  to  his  feet  in  astonishment. 
"Constance!"  he  ejaculated,  "you  will  please 
give  me  a  satisfactory  explanation  of  that 
speech  1 ' ' 

2O2 


In  the  Web  of  Life  203 

"No,  uncle,"  Constance  said,  rising,  too.  "I 
am  afraid  my  explanation  would  not  be  satis- 
factory to  you,  yet  it  is  the  only  one  I  can 
give." 

"I  insist  upon  hearing  it,  whatever  it  is !"  he 
demanded. 

The  girl  dropped  her  eyes.  "I  will  tell  you 
all  that  I  feel  that  I  can,"  she  said.  As  she 
stood  before  her  questioner,  her  hands  tightly 
clasped,  the  fingers  interlocked,  she  looked  like 
a  frightened  yet  unrepentant  child.  "Others 
can  tell  you  more  if  they  wish.  All  I  can  say 
is  that  Edith  thinks  I  have  been  anxious  to  have 
her  marry  Tom  instead  of  Ealph,  and  that  I 
like  Tom  and  do  not  like  Ealph. ' ' 

Her  uncle  regarded  her  incredulously.  "And 
for  that  accusation  from  Edith — a  silly  accusa- 
tion, perhaps,  but  surely  not  an  offensive  one — 
you  ordered  a  loving  girl  from  your  room  in 
such  a  manner  that  she  broke  down  and  cried 
in  telling  me  of  it  in  my  office  this  afternoon. 
Yes  she  did !  In  all  her  life  I  have  never  known 
Edith  to  show  as  much  hurt  and  resentment  as 
she  displayed  in  talking  of  this  trouble.  Yet 
when  I  questioned  her  as  to  details  she  referred 
me  to  you." 


204  In  the  Web  of  Life 

Constance  raised  her  head  and  looked  him 
squarely  in  the  eyes.  "And  I,"  she  said,  "in 
my  turn  refer  you  to  her." 

Before  she  could  guess  the  man's  intention, 
he  strode  to  the  door,  and,  opening  it,  called 
Edith.  His  daughter  answered  so  promptly 
that  Constance  wondered  if  she  had  been 
waiting  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  She  came 
down  immediately,  and,  as  her  father  closed 
the  door  behind  her,  glanced  at  him  inquir- 
ingly. She  did  not  look  in  Constance's  direc- 
tion. 

"What  is  it,  father?"  she  asked.  Her  voice 
was  hard  and  her  eyes  cold. 

' '  Sit  down,  darling, ' '  her  father  said.  Then, 
as  an  after-thought,  he  suggested.  "Sit  down, 
Constance."  Wearily  he  took  his  own  chair  at 
his  desk. 

"Daughter,"  he  said,  "you  have  never  lied 
to  me  nor  disobeyed  me  in  all  your  life.  I  want 
you  to  tell  me  now  what  took  place  in  Con- 
stance's room  this  afternoon." 

The  reply  was  an  abrupt  question.  "Hasn't 
Constance  told  you?" 

"She  says,"  the  parent  informed  her,  "that 
you  accused  her  of  a  partiality  for  Tom  and  of 


In  the  Web  of  Life  205 

a  desire  to  have  you  marry  Tom  rather  than 
Ralph.  Is  that  what  you  said  to  her  ? ' ' 

1  'It  is  a  part  of  what  I  said  to  her,"  Edith  re- 
plied. "But  I  told  her  the  whole  truth,  or  as 
much  as  I  had  courage  to  tell.  I  want  to  obey 
you,  father,  but  all  I  can  bring  myself  to  tell 
you  is  that  I  did  accuse  Constance  of  being 
Tom's — ally,  of  wanting  him  to  marry  me — for 

reasons  which  I  stated, — of Oh,  dad,  I 

can 't  go  on  with  the  disgraceful  story !  I  dared 
her  to  deny  it — for  I  thought  she  might  be  able 
to  explain  a  part  of  the  clandestine  business — 
and  she  ordered  me  from  her  room!" 

1  i  Great  Heavens ! ' '  the  man  looked  appalled. 
"Edith,"  he  insisted,  forcing  himself  to  speak 
calmly — "where  did  you  learn  all  this  story?" 

"From  someone  who  knows  the  truth  and 
spoke  it, ' '  she  replied. 

"From  Ralph,  I  suppose,"  Mr.  Hale  rejoined. 
"Then  he  shall  give  me  facts." 

1 '  Father, ' '  Edith  pleaded, ' '  as  Ralph  is  a  gen- 
tleman and  Tom's  cousin,  it  would  hardly  be 
fair  to  question  him.  But  I,  as  his  fiancee,  have 
a  right  to  say  what  7  know.  I  asked  Constance 
to  write  and  tell  Tom  that  I  did  not  want  to  see 
him.  She  said  she  would.  I  thought  no  more 


206  In  the  Web  of  Life 

about  it.  Now  I  learn  that  on  that  very  day 
she  got  a  telegram  from  him,  and  that  the  let- 
ter she  pretended  to  write  at  my  request  was 
really  an  answer  to  that  telegram.  I  suppose 
she  told  him  she  regretted  my  treatment  of  him, 
and  that  she  was  still  his  friend. ' '  She  paused, 
breathless  with  indignation. 

"How  do  you  know  she  got  a  telegram  from 
Tom?"  Mr.  Hale  demanded. 

* '  Because, ' '  the  girl  hesitated — '  *  well — Peter 
— Ralph's  man,  you  know — passing  at  that  time, 
saw  a  messenger  boy  hand  the  yellow  envelope 
to  Constance,  and  mentioned  this  to  Ralph. 
She  stood  in  the  shelter  of  the  trees  and  read 
it.  Later,  as  Ralph  went  to  the  office  for  a 
copy  of  the  wire  that  had  been  delivered  to  his 
mother  by  phone  the  night  before,  he  asked 
casually  if  any  message  had  come  to  this  place 
from  Tom  Morton.  You  see,  Ralph  knows  the 
operator  well,  and  he  learned  that  a  message 
had  come  addressed  to  Miss  Medford.  Of 
course  Ralph  was  too  honorable  to  ask  what 
the  telegram  said." 

Mr.  Hale  laughed  harshly.  "The  same  con- 
sideration might  have  kept  him  from  prying 
into  the  matter  at  all,  or  tempting  an  employee 


In  the  Web  of  Life  207 

of  the  telegraph  company  to  talk  of  that  about 
which  he  is  supposed  to  hold  his  tongue.  Per- 
haps he  thinks  all  is  fair  in  love  and  war,  and 
this  seems  to  be  both.  But  that  is  beside  the 
question.  I  will  try  to  get  at  the  truth  about  the 
first  charge  you  bring.  My  dear,"  turning  to 
his  niece,  "was  the  telegram  you  received  from 
Tom  of  a  private  nature  f ' ' 

"Yes,  sir,"  the  girl  replied,  without  looking 
at  the  questioner. 

"Did  it  pertain  to  Edith's  affairs?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

A  pained  look  came  to  the  man 's  face.  ' '  Did 
you,"  he  asked  sternly,  "reply  to  that  tele- 
gram?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  Constance  answered  in  a  dull 
tone. 

"Was  the  nature  of  that  reply  confidential?" 

"Yes,  it  was!"  the  harassed  girl  exclaimed, 
springing  to  her  feet.  "Oh,  I  cannot  tell  you 
anything  more,"  she  declared  abruptly,  "ex- 
cept that  I  am  sorry  for  your  disappointment 
in  me — after  all  you  have  done  for  me."  Her 
voice  broke.  ' '  Excuse  me ! ' '  she  murmured  in- 
coherently, and  fled  from  the  room  and  upstairs. 

As  she  reached  the  turn  on  the  staircase 


208  In  the  Web  of  Life 

Ralph  entered  the  front  door.  He  paused  as  he 
spied  the  slight,  hurrying  figure;  then  walked 
straight  into  the  library. 

He  appeared  flushed  from  exercise  and  more 
than  usually  handsome  and  sure  of  himself.  He 
had  been  invited  to  dine  here  to-night  and  had 
expected  to  find  Edith  awaiting  him. 

"Hallo!"  he  said.  "Am  I  early  or  late  for 
your  dinner  hour?" 

He  stopped,  as  if  just  now  conscious  that 
something  unusual  had  been  going  on.  The  pair 
whom  he  greeted  did  not  know  that  he  had  seen 
Constance's  flight  and  had  suspected  that  an 
agitating  scene  had  just  been  enacted.  * '  I  beg 
pardon  if  I  am  interrupting  or  intruding,"  he 
added. 

"Not  at  all!"  John  Hale  rejoined  gravely. 
"Perhaps  you  can  clear  up  this  mystery.  Did 
you  furnish  Edith  with  alleged  facts  about  her 
cousin — and  about  Tom  Morton!" 

Once  more  Ealph  found  himself  in  a  position 
where  the  truth  was  safer  than  a  lie.  He  looked 
unflinchingly  at  the  speaker. 

"I  did  tell  Edith,"  he  acknowledged,  "cer- 
tain facts  which,  as  my  betrothed  and  future 
wife,  she  should  know.  It  is  my  right  to  pro- 


In  the  Web  of  Life  209 

tect  her.  It  was  my  duty  to  put  her  on  her 
guard." 

"Against  whom?"  demanded  Edith's  father. 

"Against  Tom  Morton  and  his — friend,"  he 
replied,  dropping  his  voice  as  if  regretting  to 
be  forced  to  make  this  admission.  "I  was 
aware  of  certain  clandestine  transactions " 

' '  Stop ! ' '  warned  John  Hale.  * '  You  will  have 
to  prove  what  you  say!  I  challenge  you  to 
prove  anything  against  my  niece ! ' ' 

Here  Edith  broke  in.  "I  have  told  father," 
she  explained,  "that  Constance  has  received 
at  least  one  telegram  from  Tom — a  telegram 
which  she  kept  secret  and  that  she  wrote  to 
him  clandestinely." 

"Wait,  dear,"  her  father  reproved  her,  "you 
said  you  asked  her  to  write." 

It  was  evident  that  he  was  clinging  tena- 
ciously to  his  hope  in  the  orphaned  girl's  honor, 
also  that  his  faith  in  her  had  had  a  rude  shock. 

"Yes,  daddy,"  Edith  replied  gently.  "But 
you  heard  her  acknowledge  that  the  letter  she 
wrote  was  of  a  private  nature,  and  in  reply  to 
Tom's  telegram.  Oh,  it  is  all  dreadful  enough 
as  it  is — but,  father,  do  not  add  to  my  wretch- 
edness by  doubting  Ralph !  He  has  kept  silent 


2io  In  the  Web  of  Life 

all  these  months,  while  he  has  known  what  was 
going  on — never  speaking  until  I  gave  him  the 
right  to.  You  must  believe  him  as  I  do — im- 
plicitly!" 

' '  I  believe  implicitly,  my  dear, ' '  the  older  man 
said  dryly,  "the  person  whose  statements  will 
bear  investigation.  I  cannot  question  Con- 
stance further.  She  is  pitifully  nervous.  She 
refuses  to  explain  her  strange  conduct  to  you 
this  afternoon." 

Ealph  looked  inquiringly  at  his  betrothed. 
"Yes,  Ralph,"  she  said  iri  reply  to  his  look, 
her  eyes  filling  with  tears  of  self-pity.  "Con- 
stance ordered  me  from  her  room — actually 
that — flung  open  the  door  and  commanded  me 
to  go  out,  slamming  it  after  me  and  locking 
it!" 

As  sobs  checked  further  speech  on  her  part, 
John  Bale's  indignation  against  his  niece  re- 
asserted itself  and  Ealph,  noting  this,  ceased 
his  own  murmurs  of  sympathy  for  the  weeping 
girl  to  turn  upon  her  father  with : 

"Can  you  hear  that  and  still  believe  in  Con- 
stance's loyalty  to  her  cousin?  Oh,  sir,  I  am 
sorry,  heart-broken,  to  have  been  the  cause  of 
all  this  suffering.  I  had  hoped  by  warning 


In  the  Web  of  Life  211 

Edith  quietly  of  the  state  of  affairs  to  prevent 
all  this.  Not  that  I  blame  Edith  for  asking 
Constance  for  an  explanation " 

"I  could  not  help  it!"  sobbed  the  girl.  "I 
loved  her  and  could  not  bear  to  think  she  had 
been  disloyal  when  I  trusted  her. ' ' 

"Be  still,  my  child,"  John  Hale  bade  her. 
There  was  no  severity  in  his  manner,  yet  it  had 
the  effect  of  quieting  the  hysterical  girl.  '  *  We 
all — myself  most  of  all — are  making  a  great  ado 
about  a  matter  we  know  nothing  about.  My 
common  sense  has  come  suddenly  to  the  front. 
I  shall  form  no  opinion  until  I  know  more  than 
I  know  now." 

"Yet,  surely,"  Ealph  reminded  him,  "you 
can  hardly  excuse  your  niece's  behavior  this 
afternoon  to  this  poor  girl!" 

"I  surely  do  not  understand  it,"  the  father 
replied.  "But  I  shall  suspend  judgment  until 
I  have  one  more  talk  with  the  other  person  con- 
cerned." 

"You  mean —     "  Ealph  began. 

"I  mean,"  Mr.  Hale  interrupted  him,  "Tom 
Morton.  When  I  had  a  talk  with  him  early  this 
afternoon"— Ealph  started,  then  controlled  fur- 
ther evidence  of  astonishment — "I  was  igno- 


212  In  the  Web  of  Life 

rant  of  certain  things  which  I  now  suspect.  I 
shall  therefore  see  him  again." 

"When?  Where?"  queried  Ealph.  His 
tone  was  natural,  yet  a  keen  observer  would 
have  noted  signs  of  uneasiness  in  his  manner. 

"To-night,  and  here  if  possible,"  Mr.  Hale 
replied.  "All  right!"  to  the  maid  who  an- 
nounced dinner.  "We  will  be  right  in."  As 
the  servant  withdrew  he  turned  again  to  the 
young  people.  "I  would  suggest,"  he  said, 
'  *  that  we  do  not  annoy  mother  with  any  of  this 
trouble  unless  we  have  to.  We  will  appear  as 
if  nothing  had  happened.  I  do  not  want  to 
arouse  her  suspicions  by  telephoning  to  Tom 
now,  for  she  would  hear  me  from  the  dining- 
room.  As  soon  as  she  goes  into  the  library 
after  dinner  I  will  call  him  up.  Ah,  there  comes 
Constance  downstairs  now.  She  can  be  counted 
on  to  comport  herself  as  if  all  was  well.  The 
girl  certainly  understands  how  to  keep  her 
troubles  to  herself.  Come  into  dinner  now, 
both  of  you,  and  let  us  all  try  for  the  next  hour 
to  forget  the  unfortunate  occurrences  of  the 
day." 

The  presence  of  one  person  ignorant  of  cer- 
tain embarrassing  conditions  will  help  those 


In  the  Web  of  Life  213 

who  are  conscious  of  these  to  act  as  if  they, 
too,  were  ignorant  of  them.  So  at  table  this 
evening  the  men  talked  of  affairs  in  the  business 
world — at  least  Mr.  Hale  talked  business  and 
Ralph  answered  in  a  way  that  would  lead  one 
to  suppose  him  well  informed  along  these  lines ; 
Edith  made  an  occasional  remark,  while  Con- 
stance replied  pleasantly  to  any  question  put 
to  her.  Her  silence  at  other  times  was  ac- 
counted for  in  her  aunt's  mind  by  the  fact  that 
"the  child  had  a  headache." 

Mrs.  Hale  seemed  inclined  to  linger  longer 
than  usual  over  the  coffee.  She  had  made  calls 
in  the  afternoon  and  told  happily  of  what  she 
had  heard  and  seen  upon  her  expedition. 

"I  was  so  sorry  you  were  not  well  enough  to 
accompany  me, ' '  she  said  to  her  niece. 

Constance  smiled  wanly  in  appreciation  of 
this  remark. 

"But  you  are  still  pale,"  her  aunt  observed. 

John  Hale  saw  in  this  speech  an  opportunity 
to  suggest  leaving  the  table.  He  wanted  to 
telephone  to  Tom,  but  did  not  wish  to  betray 
this  fact  to  his  wife. 

"Perhaps  Constance's  head  would  be  better 
in  a  cooler  room  than  this,"  he  ventured. 


214  In  the  Web  of  Life 

His  wife  agreed  with  him  at  once.  "Why,  of 
course!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  have  been  sitting 
here  talking  of  myself  while  I  might  better  have 
been  thinking  of  other  people's  comfort." 

As  the  betrothed  pair  and  Mrs.  Hale  moved 
on  into  the  library,  Constance  opened  the  front 
door  and  lingered  there  a  moment.  The  air  felt 
good  upon  her  heated  forehead.  As  she  stood 
thus,  she  was  aware  that  her  uncle  was  tele- 
phoning to  some  one. 

"I  insist  that  you  come !"  he  was  saying  per- 
emptorily. "Yes.  I  know  it's  past  eight  now. 
But  take  your  car  and  come  out.  I  shall  expect 
you,  Tom !  I  don 't  care  if  you  don 't  arrive  until 
ten — I  shall  be  waiting  for  you." 

So  Tom  was  coming  here  to-night,  Con- 
stance thought  with  a  dull  surprise. 

A  stealthy  step  made  her  turn.  Ealph  was 
just  reentering  the  library.  He  had  come  out 
into  the  hall  unnoticed  by  her,  she  appreciated 
swiftly.  Then  he,  too,  had  heard  her  uncle's 
summons  to  Tom. 

' '  Constance ! ' '  Mrs.  Hale  called.  ' '  Where  are 
you,  dear?" 

"Here  I  am,"  the  girl  replied,  going  into 
the  library. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  215 

"I  just  wanted  to  ask  how  your  head  is  now," 
her  aunt  said.  ' '  These  young  people  are  going 
out  on  the  veranda,  but  your  uncle  and  I  will 
be  glad  to  have  you  sit  here  with  us." 

"Thank  you,"  Constance  said.  "But  if  you 
will  excuse  me,  I  will  go  to  my  room  soon. 
Perhaps  my  head  will  be  improved  by  rest  and 
darkness." 

"Headaches  are  nasty  things,"  Ealph  de- 
clared patronizingly,  with  an  effort  to  speak  as 
if  he  and  Constance  were  on  pleasant  terms. 
But  as  the  girl  made  no  reply,  and  Edith  did 
not  second  his  remark,  he  changed  the  subject 
and  told  an  amusing  story  at  which  his  fiancee 
smiled  and  her  mother  laughed  good-naturedly. 

Yet  Constance  saw  that  there  was  a  restless 
expression  in  his  eyes  and  that  he  replied 
absent-mindedly  to  some  question  his  hostess 
asked  him,  as  if  his  thoughts  were  elsewhere. 

When,  a  moment  later,  John  Hale  entered, 
the  young  man  turned  to  him  with  exaggerated 
nonchalance. 

"Might  I,"  he  asked,  "use  your  telephone 
for  a  moment?  I  happen  to  remember  a  mat- 
ter I  should  have  spoken  to  my  man  about  be- 
fore I  left  home." 


216  In  the  Web  of  Life 

11  Certainly, "  Mr.  Hale  returned  gravely. 
"You  know  where  the  instrument  is." 

"Was  he  really  going  to  call  up  his  home?" 
Constance  wondered  skeptically.  Yet  her  doubt 
as  to  his  intention  was  dispelled  as,  having  told 
her  relatives  good-night,  she  passed  through 
the  hall  on  her  way  to  her  room  and  heard 
Ealph  ask  some  one  at  his  house  to  tell  Peter 
to  come  to  the  telephone.  She  seemed  destined 
to  overhear  telephone  communications,  she 
mused  as  she  hurried  on  upstairs  and  closed 
her  door  before  anything  more  could  reach  her 
ears.  Then  the  matter  passed  from  her  mind — 
crowded  out  by  her  unhappiness. 

"While  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Hale  were  seated 
in  the  library,  reading,  as  was  their  custom  at 
this  hour,  and  Ralph  and  Edith  had  sauntered 
out  upon  the  veranda,  the  lonely  girl  sat  in  the 
dark  trying  to  quiet  her  nervous  fears  and  look 
her  own  situation  squarely  in  the  face.  But 
much  thinking  brought  no  solution  of  her  prob- 
lem or  checked  the  dread  of  the  future  that 
possessed  her.  At  last,  with  a  feeling  of  breath- 
lessness,  she  threw  open  the  window  and,  drop- 
ping on  her  knees  by  it,  drew  in  long  breaths 
of  the  fragrant  night  air.  The  sky  was  thick 


In  the  Web  of  Life  217 

with  stars,  for  the  moon  had  not  yet  risen.  It 
would  be  nearly  eleven  before  it  would  be  up. 
Kneeling  there  Constance  remembered  Emer- 
son's familiar  lines — lines  she  had  often  heard 
her  father  repeat. 

"  'Teach  me  your  mood,  0  patient  stars!'  " 

she  whispered,  then  stopped.  Patient!  Yes, 
they  could  afford  to  be  patient,  she  reflected. 
Their  courses  were  planned  for  them;  their 
places  were  assigned  them  by  the  laws  of  the 
universe.  But  she  was  only  a  poor  atom,  she 
told  herself.  When  the  young  are  wretched, 
they  are  very  wretched.  It  takes  a  long  while 
to  learn  that  the  effect  of  pain  on  the  character 
is  a  greater  thing  than  the  pain  itself — and  that 
whet  that  effect  shall  be  rests  with  God  and  the 
sufferer  himself. 

Whom  could  she  trust?  this  girl  demanded 
of  her  soul.  Of  course  there  were  her  uncle 
and  her  aunt,  but  they  would  be  governed  by 
their  daughter's  judgment,  so  she  could  no 
longer  count  on  them.  She  had  no  human  coun- 
selor ! 

Then  all  at  once  she  remembered  Tom.    He 


218  In  the  Web  of  Life 

was  her  friend.  Yet  she  had  no  right  to  turn 
to  him  at  this  juncture.  What  was  she  to  him 
or  he  to  her?  Even  as  she  asked  herself  this 
question  she  was  conscious  of  a  sense  of  com- 
fort. She  did  not  pause  to  analyze  it.  A  nor- 
mal girl  is  not,  as  a  rule,  given  to  analysis.  All 
this  one  knew  now  was  that  she  could  never 
doubt  Tom  Morton,  that  he  stood  for  more  in 
her  little  world  than  did  anyone  else. 

Folding  her  arms  on  the  window  sill,  she 
dropped  her  head  upon  them,  and  knelt  motion- 
less. The  stars  shone  on  calmly ;  the  soft  wind 
murmured  drowsily  in  the  trees.  A  clock  some- 
where in  the  village  struck  nine. 

Suddenly  Constance  Medford  was  startled 
by  a  gentle  stir  on  the  walk  beneath  her  win- 
dow. Her  room  was  at  the  side  of  tho  house 
where  a  narrow  path  ran  between  two  rows  of 
shrubbery.  "With  a  swift  sense  of  fright  she 
peered  out  into  the  darkness. 

A  man  was  standing  down  there  in  the  shad- 
ows, waiting. 

For  whom? 


Chapter  Fifteen 

The  question  repeated  itself  to  the  motion- 
less girl  crouching  by  the  open  window.  For 
whom  was  that  man  down  there  waiting?  At 
first  her  brain  seemed  too  much  dazed  to  grasp 
more  than  that  one  thought — i '  for  whom  f "  If 
he  had  come  to  see  any  one  whom  he  had  a 
right  to  ask  to  see  he  would  not  stand  there 
in  the  shelter  of  the  shrubbery,  but  would  go 
boldly  to  the  front  door. 

Then,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  Constance  remem- 
bered the  servants.  This  man  might  be  a  friend 
of  one  of  the  maids.  Yet,  if  so,  why  had  he 
not  gone  at  once  to  the  rear  door?  Mrs.  Hale 
never  objected  to  her  maids  having  decent  men 
call  on  them.  There  was  a  pleasant  sitting 
room  in  which  the  girls  were  allowed  to  receive 
their  friends.  Unless  this  man  were  plotting 
mischief  he  would  not  skulk  about  the  house  in 
this  way.  None  of  the  maids  was  the  kind  of 
girl  who  would  make  clandestine  appointments. 

This  might  be  a  burglar !  The  idea  brought 
Constance  to  her  feet  and  sent  her  hurrying 
219 


220  In  the  Web  of  Life 

across  the  room  to  her  door.  She  would  have 
a  word  alone  with  her  uncle.  She  had  reached 
the  head  of  the  stairs  when  she  heard  her 
cousin's  voice  at  the  front  door.  She  was  evi- 
dently coming  in — perhaps  upstairs. 

"I'll  be  right  back,  Balph,"  Edith  was  say- 
ing. ' '  I  just  want  to  get  a  shawl  from  my  room. 
It's  getting  a  little  chilly." 

As  the  light  footfall  sounded  on  the  stairs 
Constance  stepped  back  into  her  own  room, 
closing  the  door  gently  behind  her.  She  did  not 
wish  to  come  face  to  face  with  Edith  just  then. 

Those  matter-of-fact,  familiar  voices  had  had 
the  effect  of  making  her  frightened  impulse  of 
a  moment  ago  appear  foolish  now.  She  would 
first  make  certain  that  the  man  she  had  thought 
she  saw  was  really  there  on  the  path.  Perhaps 
her  nervousness  had  excited  her  imagination. 

Once  more  she  leaned  from  the  window,  and, 
as  her  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  darkness 
of  the  garden,  she  saw  that  the  figure  was  still 
there  on  the  path.  She  had  hardly  discerned 
this  when  she  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  a 
cautious  step  approaching  from  the  corner  of 
the  house.  She  caught  her  breath  with  surprise 
as  Ealph's  voice  sounded,  very  low. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  221 

' '  Peter ! "  he  murmured.    ' '  Is  that  you  ? ' ' 

''Yes,  sir,"  came  from  the  waiting  figure, 
as  it  moved  forward  to  meet  the  newcomer. 

"I  have  only  a  moment,  so  pay  attention  to 
what  I  have  to  say,"  Ealph  ordered.  "I  have 
an  important  errand  to  attend  to  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. Hurry  back  home,  get  my  car  and  bring 
it  down  to  the  corner  of  Homewood  Avenue  and 
Cliff  Avenue — one  block  down — you  know  that 
dark  corner  below  there.  Understand?  And 
hold  your  tongue  about  it ! " 

1 1  Sure ! ' '  the  man  rejoined.  '  *  Will  you  want 
me  to  drive  you?" 

' '  No.  As  soon  as  I  meet  you  you  can  go  back 
home.  I  will  not  need  you  again  to-night.  Now 
hurry!" 

The  two  figures  parted — one  gliding  out  of 
the  side  gate  to  the  garden,  the  other  strolling 
back  to  the  front  veranda.  When  she  heard 
Edith  descending  to  the  lower  hall  Constance 
went  to  the  head  of  the  stairs  and  listened. 
That  her  action  might  be  construed  into  eaves- 
dropping— which  she  detested — never  occurred 
to  her.  She  must  know  what  Ealph  was  going 
to  do,  where  he  was  going — for  a  great  fear  had 
gripped  her  heart. 


222  In  the  Web  of  Life 

She  heard  Mm  greet  Edith  cheerfully  as  she 
went  out  of  the  front  door.  ''Suppose  we  walk 
around  the  garden,"  he  proposed,  " before  I 
go  home?" 

"Are  you  going  so  soon?"  Edith  asked  in 
surprise,  and  the  man  replied  that  when  he  had 
telephoned  to  his  house  a  while  ago  he  had 
learned  that  his  mother  was  not  feeling  very 
well  and  would  like  to  have  him  come  home 
early.  Peter  told  him  this  when  he  talked  with 
him  and  he  really  felt  that,  under  the  circum- 
stances  

Constance  had  heard  enough.  She  returned 
to  her  room  and  closed  her  door.  Then  she 
stood  still  for  a  long  minute. 

There  are  times  in  the  life  of  many  a  person 
when,  for  a  brief  period,  one  seems  almost 
clairvoyant,  almost  able  to  read  the  mind  of 
another.  This  minute,  while  she  stood  there, 
was  one  of  those  periods  in  the  life  of  Constance 
Medf ord.  She  knew — although  she  did  not  un- 
derstand how  she  knew — that  Ealph  was  going 
out  alone  to  meet  Tom  Morton.  He  had  heard, 
as  she  had  heard,  Mr.  Hale  telephone  to  Tom, 
had  heard  him  insist  that  he  must  come  to-night 
even  if  he  could  not  get  here  before  ten  o  'clock. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  223 

Tom's  presence  at  this  juncture  would  mean 
the  overthrow  of  Ralph's  plans,  might  mean  the 
destruction  of  that  for  which  he  had  worked 
and  schemed.  If  the  father  told  the  discarded 
lover  of  the  charges  brought  against  Constance 
by  Ralph  Morton,  Tom  would  tell  the  truth 
about  Ralph — driven  to  this  extreme  by  right- 
eous wrath.  The  thought  of  Tom's  friendship 
for  her  had  thrilled  Constance  only  a  little  while 
ago.  Now  it  terrified  her,  for  she  appreciated 
that  if  the  accusations  brought  against  her  by 
Ralph  were  repeated  to  Tom,  Ralph  would  have 
to  bear  the  penalty  of  his  foul  lies.  And  she 
also  knew  that  Ralph  knew  this,  feared  it  and 
would  prevent  it.  But  how? 

The  answer  seemed  to  whisper  itself  suddenly 
through  the  silent  room : 

"Certainly  not  by  fair  means — then  surely  by 
foul!" 

The  frightened  girl  started  as  if  stung  by  a 
lash. 

"Tom!  Tom!"  she  gasped.  "I  must  stop 
him !  I  must  warn  you ! ' ' 

She  touched  the  button  of  the  electric  light, 
and,  as  the  radiance  flashed  forth,  ran  to  her 
closet,  took  from  a  hook  a  long,  dark  cloak 


224  In  the  Web  of  Life 

and  threw  it  around  her.  Snatching  a  black  veil 
from  her  bureau  drawer  she  wound  this  about 
her  head.  These  actions  took  but  a  moment, 
yet  as  she  glanced  at  the  clock  and  saw  it  was 
a  quarter  past  nine,  she  shuddered.  Then, 
switching  -off  the  light,  she  stole  noiselessly 
down  the  back  stairs,  out  of  the  side  door,  and 
a  moment  later  was  running  down  the  street 
toward  the  distant  road  leading  from  the  Fort 
Lee  ferry  to  Homewood. 

"I  must  go  now,  dearest,"  Ralph  said. 

He  glanced  at  his  watch  in  the  light  gleaming 
from  the  open  front  door.  Peter  would  be 
awaiting  him  by  the  time  that  he  could  walk  to 
the  place  of  meeting.  He  must  not  linger  here 
a  minute  longer. 

"I  wish  you  did  not  have  to  go  so  soon," 
Edith  regretted. 

"I  wish  so,  too,"  he  responded.  "But,  dear, 
you  know  that  when  mother  is  not  so  well  I 
feel  I  ought  to  set  aside  my  own  preferences. ' ' 

"And  mine,  too?"  the  girl  suggested  with  a 
little  pout. 

Of  course  he  assured  her  that  were  he  to  fol- 
low the  dictates  of  his  heart  he  would  stay 


In  the  Web  of  Life  225 

right  here.  She  said,  "Oh,  that  is  all  right!" 
and  allowed  him  to  kiss  her  good-night.  Yet  as 
the  man  walked  toward  the  gate  he  hoped  that 
Edith  was  not  going  to  prove  to  be  an  exacting 
fiancee,  while  the  girl,  going  into  the  house, 
found  herself  somewhat  piqued  that  Ralph  could 
leave  her  so  easily  even  at  his  mother's  bidding. 
She  felt  that  if  he  loved  her  as  he  should  love 
her  he  should  know  no  superior  claim  on  his 
affections  and  time. 

John  Hale  looked  up  in  surprise  as  his  daugh- 
ter entered  the  library. 

"Where's  Ralph!"  he  asked. 

"Gone  home,"  she  informed  him.  Then  as 
she  saw  her  father's  face  darken,  she  hastened 
to  explain  her  lover's  departure.  It  was  one 
thing  for  her  to  resent  it  and  quite  another 
for  her  parent  to  do  so.  "His  mother  is  not 
well,"  she  said.  "When  he  called  up  his  house 
a  while  ago  Peter  told  him  his  mother  was  ask- 
ing for  him.  Of  course,  dad,  it  was  his  duty  to 
go  to  her." 

John  Hale  started  to  speak,  then  glanced  at 
his  wife  and  checked  himself.  But  the  girl 
knew  he  was  not  satisfied  with  her  explanation. 
Before  she  could  say  anything  more  there  was 


226  In  the  Web  of  Life 

a  sound  of  someone  coming  up  on  the  vernada 
and  she  turned  back  to  see  who  it  was. 

"May  I  come  in?"  asked  a  cheery  voice,  and 
Edward  Dayton  came  into  the  hall. 

"Indeed  you  may!"  exclaimed  Edith,  smiling 
brightly.  She  remembered  in  a  flash  how  this 
man  had  championed  her  on  the  evening  of  the 
never-to-be-forgotten  engagement  dinner,  and 
her  heart  warmed  to  him. 

"It  is  an  unconscionably  late  hour  to  call,  I 
know,"  Edward  Dayton  said  as  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Hale  welcomed  him.  "But  I  saw  your  hos- 
pitable light  shining  from  all  the  lower  windows 
as  I  passed  along  the  street  down  there,  so  I 
was  sure  you  were  all  downstairs  yet — and  this 
knowledge  tempted  me  just  to  run  in  and  see 
you  for  a  few  minutes." 

"I  am  glad  you  came,"  Edith  told  him  frank- 
ly. "It  is  too  early  to  go  to  bed,  and  I  was 
just  wishing  I  had  a  pleasant  person  to  talk 
to." 

Dayton  looked  at  her  with  a  mischievous 
smile.  "I  might  not  have  had  the  temerity  to 
come  in,"  he  teased,  "if  I  had  not  seen  Ealph 
Morton  hurrying  down  toward  Cliff  Avenue  a 
few  moments  ago.  I  knew  that  as  he  was  not 


In  the  Web  of  Life  227 

here  I  would  not  be  poaching  upon  his  pre- 
serves." 

Edith  laughed,  then,  struck  by  an  uncom- 
fortable idea,  asked  quickly,  "  Where  did  you 
say  you  met  him?" 

"Down  near  Cliff  Avenue — probably  on  his 
way  to  the  village  for  something  he  had  for- 
gotten, for  he  was  walking  so  rapidly  that  he 
did  not  even  see  me. ' ' 

"Yes,"  Edith  agreed,  "he  had  probably  for- 
gotten something  in  the  village."  She  glanced 
at  her  father  and  the  expression  in  his  eyes  did 
not  quiet  her  feeling  of  apprehension.  "Sup- 
pose we  go  out  on  the  veranda  for  a  while," 
she  suggested  to  Dayton.  "You  don't  mind,  do 
you,  mother?" 

"Certainly  not,  my  dear,"  her  mother  re- 
plied. "I'm  going  to  sit  here  with  father  and 
finish  my  book  before  I  go  upstairs." 

Seated  on  the  veranda  with  a  companion  who 
was  an  attentive  listener  and  a  good  talker, 
Edith  forgot,  for  a  while,  her  perplexity  with 
regard  to  Ealph's  destination.  Not  so  her 
father.  When,  after  twenty  minutes '  chat,  Ed- 
ward Dayton  bade  Edith  and  her  parents  good- 
night and  went  home,  John  Hale  detained  his 


228  In  the  Web  of  Life 

daughter  in  the  hall  for  a  moment.  He  spoke 
reluctantly. 

"I  had  hoped  that  Ealph  would  stay  to  see 
Tom,"  he  said.  "As  he  did  not,  I  telephoned 
to  his  house  just  now  to  tell  him  to  come  here 
as  soon  as  he  could  leave  his  mother.  He  was 
not  at  home  nor  has  he  been  at  home  since 
before  dinner,  his  mother's  maid  said.  She 
also  said  that  her  mistress  is  as  well  as 
usual  this  evening,  and  that  she  was  not 
aware  that  any  message  had  been  sent  from 
Mrs.  Morton  to  'Mr.  Ralph.'  I  warned  her 
not  to  tell  Mrs.  Morton  of  my  having  tele- 
phoned, as  it  might  make  her  anxious  about 
Ralph." 

"But,  dad,"  the  girl  protested,  "I  know  he 
meant  to  go  right  home  and  that  his  mother 
did  send  for  him,  for " 

"Yet,"  her  father  interrupted  her,  "Ned 
Dayton  saw  him  five  minutes  after  he  left  here 
going  toward  Cliff  Avenue.  I  don't  understand 
it — and  I  confess  I  don't  like  it!" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  the  girl  demanded 
indignantly.  "Surely  you  don't  mean  to  inti- 
mate that  he  told  me  a  deliberate  lie — that 


In  the  Web  of  Life  229 

She  checked  herself  as  her  mother  came  out 
from  the  library. 

"I've  finished  my  book  and  I'm  going  to 
bed,"  announced  the  matron.  "But  first  I'll 
stop  in  Connie's  room  and  see  how  her  head  is. 
I  hope  she 's  asleep.  Come  to  my  room  and  tell 
me  good-night  on  your  way  to  bed,  daughter 
dear." 

Moved  by  a  presentiment  of  impending  trou- 
ble, father  and  daughter  stood  silent  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  while  the  elderly  woman  went  up. 
They  heard  her  enter  Constance 's  room,  softly, 
heard  her  low-voiced  query,  heard  her  hurry 
across  the  room  and  open  the  door  of  her  niece's 
dressing-room,  then  run  across  the  floor  to  the 
head  of  the  stairs. 

' '  John !  Edith ! "  she  called  excitedly, ' '  where 
can  Constance  be?  Her  room  is  empty,  so  is 
her  dressing-room — and  her  bed  has  not  been 
slept  in.  Oh — my  dears — where  can  she  be? 
Where  can  she  be  f " 

"Hush!"  John  Hale  exclaimed,  running  up- 
stairs to  his  trembling  wife.  "The  servants 
will  hear  you!" 

"But,  John,"  panted  the  agitated  woman, 
clinging  to  his  arm,  "I  tell  you  the  child's  gone ! 


230  In  the  Web  of  Life 

Oh,  Edith,"  as  her  daughter  reached  her  side, 
"I  tell  you  Connie's  gone!" 

' ' Nonsense ! ' '  ejaculated  the  girl.  ' '  Suppose 
she  has  gone  out?  What  is  there  to  frighten 
you  in  that?" 

She  spoke  as  if  she,  too,  were  not  startled, 
but  secretly  she  was  disturbed  and  puzzled. 
Her  father  had  grown  suddenly  pale,  yet  his  re- 
assuring words  gave  no  hint  of  his  trepidation. 

" Martha,"  he  urged,  "it  is  possible  that  Con- 
stance may  have  gone  out  for  a  stroll  in  the 
garden  in  the  hope  that  the  fresh  air  would  ease 
the  pain  in  her  head. ' ' 

"But  it  is  not  like  her  to  do  that,"  his  wife 
insisted.  "And  I  am  so  frightened  lest  her 
head  may  have  been  so  bad  that  it  affected  her 
mind,  and  that  she  may  have  wandered  off " 

"Ridiculous!"  her  husband  declared.  His 
stern,  yet  calm  manner  produced  the  effect  he 
desired  upon  his  wife.  "It  would  be  foolish," 
he  continued, ' '  to  let  the  servants  know  you  are 
worried.  They  would  fancy  all  sorts  of  things, 
even" — with  a  sorry  attempt  at  a  laugh — "an 
elopement. ' ' 

Mrs.  Hale  tried  to  laugh,  too,  but  only  suc- 
ceeded in  perpetrating  a  sound  between  a  sob 


In  the  Web  of  Life  231 

and  a  giggle.  "Well,  I  couldn't  help  being 
scared,  John,"  she  said,  "and  I  can't  deny  that 
I  am  still  anxious." 

"Edith,"  commanded  Mr.  Hale,  as  he  led  his 
wife  into  her  own  room,  "you  stay  with  mother 
while  I  go  into  the  garden  and  see  if  Constance 
is  there?" 

Five  minutes  later  he  returned,  his  face  paler 
than  before.  "No,"  he  reported,  "I  did  not 
find  her.  Now,  Martha,  keep  calm  and  listen  to 
reason.  "Wherever  Constance  is  she  went  there 
of  her  own  accord.  She  is  no  baby  or  little  girl, 
but  a  grown  woman — twenty-three  years  of  age. 

' '  I  shall,  of  course,  try  to  ascertain  where  she 
is,  for  she  is  your  niece  and  an  inmate  of  my 
house.  But  I  am  not  frightened  about  her 
physical  welfare,  although  I  am  angry  with  her 
for  doing  such  an  improper  and  injudicious 
thing  as  leaving  the  house  alone  at  this  hour  of 
the  night." 

"She  probably  did  it  to  punish  us,"  Edith 
suggested  in  a  low  voice. 

"What's  that?"  Mrs.  Hale  demanded.  "To 
punish  you  ?  What  f or  ? " 

"There  is  not  time  to  talk  about  it  now,  my 
clear,"  said  her  husband.  "All  I  can  explain 


232  In  the  Web  of  Life 

to  you  at  present  is  that  I  reproved  Constance 
this  afternoon  for  something  she  did,  and  she 
was  angry  about  the  matter. ' ' 

" Angry!  Constance!"  exclaimed  Constance's 
aunt  incredulously.  "Well,  if  so,  it  was  be- 
cause she  was  not  well  and  not  like  herself. ' ' 

"Perhaps,"  assented  Mr.  Hale  skeptically. 
The  aspersions  cast  upon  Constance  by  Ealph 
Morton  seemed  terribly  near  the  truth  when 
viewed  in  the  light  of  to-night's  occurrences. 

"Why  not  telephone  to  Ealph  to  help  you 
search  for  her?"  suggested  Mrs.  Hale. 

"Ealph  isn't  at  home,  I  think,"  Mr.  Hale  be- 
gan, then  stopped  and  looked  at  Edith.  The 
same  thought  had  occurred  to  father  and  daugh- 
ter. Ealph  had  gone  on  some  mysterious  er- 
rand, one  which  he  had  tried  to  conceal  from 
them.  Constance  had  gone  somewhere  secretly. 
Was  there  any  connection  between  these  two 
circumstances  ? 

"Now,  mother,"  the  husband  said,  soothingly, 
"you  try  to  keep  quiet — you  and  Edith — and 
don't  talk  about  this  matter  until  I  get  back." 

"But  where  are  you  going?"  asked  the  wife 
tremulously. 

"To  the  garage  first,  to  tell  Eobert  to  get  out 


In  the  Web  of  Life  233 

the  automobile.  I  shall  have  him  drive  me  to  the 
station  and  to  the — well,  to  several  places.  Con- 
stance may  have  decided  to  go  to  New  York, 
you  know.  I  won't  be  gone  long." 

Edith  followed  him  into  the  hall.  "Dad!" 
she  pleaded  in  a  low  voice,  "mayn't  I  go,  too, 
please ! ' ' 

1 '  No ! "  he  replied  with  decision.  '  *  Your  place 
is  here  with  your  mother. ' ' 

"But,  father" — her  manner  becoming  less 
cajoling,  "surely  I  have  a  right  to  know  what 
you  suspect — what  you  fear.  Remember, 
please,  father,  that  since  you  are  thinking  things 
about  Ealph,  I  have  a  right  to  know  at  least 
something  of  what  is  in  your  mind." 

"I  don't  know  what  I  suspect  or  fear,  as 
you  phrase  it,"  he  retorted  brusquely.  Yet  as 
he  reached  the  head  of  the  stairs,  he  turned 
again  to  his  daughter.  "I  confess,  my  dear," 
he  said  with  bitter  emphasis,  "that  I  cannot 
help  remembering  some  of  the  insinuations  you 
and  Ealph  made  this  afternoon — I  wish  to  God 
I  had  never  heard  them ! ' ' 

Before  the  surprised  girl  could  gather  cour- 
age to  ask  another  question,  he  was  gone.  A 
minute  later,  standing  at  the  window  in  the  back 


234  I"  the  Web  of  Life 

hall,  Edith  heard  him  summon  Eobert,  the 
chauffeur,  from  his  room  over  the  garage. 

When  she  had  returned  to  her  mother  and 
was  trying  to  talk  with  her  of  any  matter  except 
the  one  that  occupied  the  minds  of  both  women, 
the  crunching  of  gravel  on  the  driveway  and  the 
purring  of  an  automobile  engine  notified  the 
listeners  that  the  master  of  the  house  and  his 
man  had  gone  in  search  of  their  missing  rela- 
tive. 

"Why  not  go  to  bed  now,  mother?"  Edith 
suggested  gently  after  a  while. 

But  the  matron  insisted  that  she  was  too 
nervous  to  lie  down. 

"I  will,  however,  put  on  a  wrapper  and  rest 
here  on  the  lounge  until  father  comes  back,"  she 
said.  "And  you  can  sit  here  and  talk  to  me." 

Conversation  languished,  as  it  always  does 
when  it  is  forced  and  not  spontaneous.  The 
daughter  saw  that  her  mother  was  paying  scant 
attention  to  the  desultory  remarks  made  to  her, 
and  that  every  nerve  was  strained  for  any 
sound  that  might  indicate  the  return  of  the 
missing  girl  or  of  John  Hale  himself.  The 
clock  on  the  mantel  ticked  away  more  loudly 
than  ever,  yet  the  hands  moved  with  madden- 


In  the  Web  of  Life  235 

ing  slowness.  Edith  felt  that  if  her  mother 
would  only  talk  she  could  stand  the  suspense 
better. 

Yet  when  at  last,  by  asking  questions  about 
people  and  events  connected  with  the  elderly 
woman's  girlhood,  she  led  her  on  to  talk  of  old 
times,  the  impatient  girl  felt  as  if  the  mono- 
logue would  never  end  and  that  if  there  was 
anything  worse  than  the  periods  of  silence 
which  she  had  tried  to  end  it  was  this  long 
story  which  her  mother  was  telling.  If  some- 
thing did  not  happen  soon,  Edith  Hale  told  her- 
self, she  would  go  mad! 


Chapter  Sixteen 

Although  John  Hale  was  a  kind  and  consid- 
erate employer  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  con- 
versing freely  with  his  employees.  So  Eobert 
was  not  surprised  when  he  said  little  about  his 
errand  as  they  drove  out  of  the  gates  of  the 
Hale  estate. 

"The  railroad  station  first,"  Mr.  Hale  or- 
dered. 

He  did  not  linger  long  in  the  station.  Walk- 
ing through  the  waiting-room,  he  glanced  at 
the  few  persons  seated  there,  learned  that  the 
train  to  New  York  was  due  now,  waited  until 
it  had  rolled  into  the  station  and  steamed  out, 
then  returned  to  his  car. 

"I  think,"  he  told  the  chauffeur,  "that  it 
would  be  well  for  you  to  drive  down  to  the 
ferry. ' ' 

"The  ferry,  sir!"  exclaimed  Eobert,  aston- 
ished. 

"That's  what  I  said,"  replied  the  master, 
tersely.  Then,  more  kindly :  * '  There 's  a  friend 
who  may  be  going  to  New  York  by  the  Fort 

236 


In  the  Web  of  Life  237 

Lee  ferry  and  whom  I  wish  to  speak  to.  I  want 
to  look  at  the  trolleys  from  Homewood  as  they 
discharge  their  passengers." 

1  'Yes,  sir,"  returned  the  man,  respectfully. 

Yet  the  automobile  had  not  gone  a  half  mile 
before  a  new  idea  seized  the  owner.  If  Con- 
stance wanted  to  elude  them  all,  she  would 
hardly  have  taken  a  trolley  car  through  a  town 
where  she  would  be  recognized.  The  foolish 
girl  would  have  chosen  some  other  method  of 
getting  away.  Yet  she  would  not  have  hired  a 
conveyance — if  she  wished  to  avoid  awakening 
the  curiosity  of  the  suburbanites.  Would  she 
attempt  to  walk  all  that  distance  to  the  ferry? 
Never !  "Why  should  he  fancy  that  she  was  go- 
ing to  New  York?  Perhaps  she  had  only  meant 
to  meet  ftalph  somewhere — had  planned  to  talk 
her  rage  out  to  him. 

Yet  that  did  not  seem  likely  unless  her  in- 
dignation against  her  cousin's  betrothed  had 
moved  her  to  make  an  appointment  with  him — 
or  to  offer  some  inducement  to  him  to  withdraw 
his  charges  against  her.  Had  she  sent  any  mes- 
sage to  Ealph  this  evening,  and  was  this  what 
had  made  him  alter  his  plans?  If  so,  was  not 
this  a  virtual  admission  that  his  accusations 


238  In  the  Web  of  Life 

against  her  were  at  least  partially  true?  Ed- 
ward Dayton  had  seen  him  walking  toward  the 
village.  Had  Ealph  then  agreed  to  meet  Con- 
stance on  some  sheltered  street  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  town?  It  was  like  looking  for  a  needle 
in  a  haystack. 

"Wait!"  John  Hale  exclaimed  suddenly. 
"Drive  slowly  down  Homewood  Avenue.  Per- 
haps my  friend  decided  to  walk  a  part  of  the 
way  to  the  ferry. ' ' 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  man,  retarding  his  speed. 
"I'll  drive  slowly,  sir." 

"And  I  will  watch,"  John  Hale  remarked, 
then  lapsed  again  into  silence. 

Ealph  Morton  reached  the  corner  of  Home- 
wood  and  Cliff  Avenues  several  moments 
before  Peter  drove  up,  a  circumstance 
that  tempted  the  master  to  blend  profanity 
with  the  remarks  with  which  he  greeted  his 
servant. 

"Get  out!"  Ralph  ordered,  adding,  as  the 
man  sprang  out  of  the  car,  and  he  himself  took 

his  seat  in  it,  "Where  in have  you  been  all 

this  time?" 

"The  right  front  tire  went  flat,"  Peter  re- 


In  the  Web  of  Life  239 

plied  sulkily,  "and  I  had  to  pump  her  up.  I 
guess  there's  a  leaky  valve  there." 

An  exclamation  more  forcible  than  elegant 
was  called  forth  by  this  bit  of  information.  It 
was  followed  by  the  statement  that,  leak  or  no 
leak,  the  tire  would  have  to  last  out  the  present 
expedition. 

"If  not,  I'll  ride  on  the  rim  sooner  than  stop 
to-night,'*  the  master  declared  angrily.  "It 
does  seem  that  since  you're  paid  to  do  your 
work  you  might  once  in  a  while  take  the  time 
to  keep  this  machine  in  good  order.  If  the  tire 
leaks,  it's  your  fault.  Shut  up!"  as  the  man 
started  to  protest.  "Your  excuses  don't  go 
down  here !  Do  your  work  better  or  leave ! ' ' 

It  may  be  observed  in  passing  that  Ralph 
Morton  knew  he  was  quite  safe  in  speaking  thus 
to  his  man.  Peter  had  a  sickly  wife  and  four 
young  children  dependent  upon  him.  Moreover, 
he  was  not  a  skilled  mechanician,  nor  an  expert 
gardener.  Had  he  been  a  younger  and  more 
competent  man,  with  no  family  to  provide  for, 
Ralph  would  have  found  it  quite  possible  to 
curb  his  tongue  and  suppress  his  angry  out- 
burst— unless  he  was  willing  to  look  for  another 
servant.  Besides  all  this,  Ralph's  mother — not 


240  In  the  Web  of  Life 

Ralph — paid  this  man's  wages.  But  that,  of 
course,  the  man  did  not  know. 

There  is  a  type  of  person  who  is  never  afraid 
to  threaten  the  employee  who  dares  not  leave 
lest  he  or  those  near  and  dear  to  him  may 
starve. 

When,  with  a  roar  of  the  engine  and  a  whirr- 
ing of  the  wheels,  the  owner  of  the  car  drove  off, 
Peter  stood  looking  after  him,  and,  as  the  red 
tail-light  disappeared  at  the  corner  of  the  av- 
enue, he  shook  his  head. 

"He  sure  has  got  the  temper  of  the  devil,  and 
he  drives  like  him,  too,"  he  muttered,  "and  it 
seems  to  me  as  if  it  was  one  of  the  devil's  own 
errands  he's  on  to-night.  I  don't  like  the  looks 
of  it, — I'll  be  darned  if  I  do !  However,  it  ain't 
none  of  my  business !  So  long  as  I  get  my  pay 
from  him  I've  got  to  keep  my  mouth  shut!" 

After  which  sage  observation  he  sighed  and 
turned  his  steps  toward  home. 

In  spite  of  his  haste,  Ealph  Morton  stopped 
once  on  his  way  through  the  village  of  Home- 
wood.  He  got  out  of  his  car  and  went  into  a 
hardware  shop.  The  proprietor  was  just  put- 
ting up  his  shutters,  but  ceased  his  task  as  he 
saw  a  chance  customer  enter.  Mr.  Morton's 


In  the  Web  of  Life  241 

manner  moved  the  salesman  to  wait  on  him  with 
alacrity.  He  evidently  knew  just  what  he 
wanted,  and  wanted  it  in  a  hurry. 

When  Ralph  emerged  from  the  shop  he  car- 
ried in  his  hand  a  long,  slender  object,  which 
he  deposited  as  well  as  he  could  in  the  bottom 
of  the  car.  Although  he  bent  it  almost  double, 
it  still  protruded  at  one  side.  As  he  drove  off 
the  proprietor  stood,  as  Peter  had  done,  and 
looked  after  the  car  and  its  occupant,  muttering. 

"What  in  thunder  does  he  want  with  a  horse- 
whip in  an  automobile  I "  he  wondered. 

At  the  same  time  Ealph,  glancing  down  at  the 
tasseled  end  of  his  recent  purchase,  murmured : 

"I  may  not  need  it— but  if  other  things  fail 
I'll  use  it!" 

The  hypocrite  or  the  liar  is  likely  to  prove 
himself  a  coward  when  forced  to  contemplate 
the  probability  of  being  faced  by  the  evidences 
of  his  wrongdoing  or  deceit.  Ealph  Morton 
would  have  declared  himself  to  be  a  brave  man. 
Certainly  he  had  not  hesitated  to  run  great 
risks  to  advance  his  own  interests.  But  to  dare 
and  to  be  brave  are  not  one  and  the  same 
thing. 

As  he  drove  to-night,  alone  with  his  thoughts, 


242  In  the  Web  of  Life 

he  suddenly  found  himself  afraid,  horribly 
afraid,  of  the  exposures  that  his  cousin  might 
make.  Desperation,  the  unreasoning  fear  of  an 
almost  trapped  animal,  possessed  him,  as,  hold- 
ing the  steering  wheel  tightly,  he  watched  the 
yellow  road  slip  toward  him  in  the  glare  of  his 
headlights.  One  thought  alone  he  clung  to  with 
hope.  He  must  keep  Tom  Morton  from  going 
to  the  Hale  home. 

How  to  do  this  he  did  not  know,  but  he  was 
determined  to  use  every  effort  in  his  power  to 
check  his  cousin.  He  would  persuade,  command, 
intimidate — yet  he  knew  now,  as  he  had  known 
every  minute  of  the  evening,  that  none  of  these 
things  would  change  Tom  in  his  course.  Well, 
then,  he  would  maim  him — even,  if  necessary, 
kill  him.  There  was  a  wild,  menacing  glitter  in 
his  eyes  as  plan  after  plan  surged  through  his 
mind  and  broke  into  the  froth  of  impractica- 
bility. 

Suddenly  he  threw  on  his  brakes  and  brought 
his  car  to  a  stop.  He  was  well  outside  the 
town  now.  The  white  pathway  cut  into  the 
darkness  by  the  acetylene  lamps  shone  along 
the  road  leading  to  the  New  York  ferry.  Tom- 
must  come  this  way.  He  would  wait  for  him 


In  the  Web  of  Life  243 

here.  With  fingers  that  trembled,  Ealph  lit  a 
cigarette,  then  stepped  down  into  the  road.  In 
his  hand  he  held  the  slender  whip  he  had  bought 
a  few  minutes  ago. 

Fortune  had  favored  him  lately,  he  reminded 
himself,  to  calm  his  nerves.  Of  course  she 
would  help  him  in  this  crisis.  If  not — he  set 
his  lips  in  a  hard  line  to  prevent  their  twitch- 
ing— he  would  help  himself.  The  tip  of  his 
cigarette  glowed  hotly  in  the  darkness  as  he 
drew  in  a  quick  breath  and  looked  about  him 
calculatingly. 

A  little  ahead  of  him  the  road  curved  sharply ; 
behind  him  was  another  turn  where  it  crossed  a 
narrow  bridge.  He  knew  that  he  could  recog- 
nize Tom's  low,  red  speed-car  as  soon  as  it 
should  shoot  around  the  corner  into  the  glare 
of  his  own  lights.  He  seated  himself  on  the 
running  board  of  his  machine  and  waited,  whip 
in  hand.  Tom  Morton  always  drove  fast.  He 
would  surely  hurry  this  evening. 

The  brook  gurgled  and  chuckled  loudly  be- 
neath the  bridge.  To  the  left,  above  the  trees, 
the  searchlight  of  a  Hudson  River  boat  swept 
across  the  sky.  The  night  was  very  still.  All 
at  once,  far  away  to  the  south,  a  low  drone 


244  I™  the  Web  of  Life 

caused  a  rift  in  the  silence.  The  man  looked 
at  his  watch,  then  slunk  back  into  the  darkness 
behind  his  car.  The  drone  grew  into  a  hum, 
the  hum  into  the  approaching  roar  of  a  speed- 
ing car.  A  growing  beam  of  light  shone  around 
the  curve  on  the  trees  at  the  side  of  the  road. 
The  man  crouching  in  the  darkness  grasped  his 
whip  more  tightly. 

A  car  swung  into  the  glare  of  his  headlights 
— a  low  roadster  with  a  single  occupant;  a 
warning  scream  sounded  from  its  horn  as  it 
rushed  forward,  cut-out  open,  roaring  like  a 
machine  gun. 

As  it  flashed  past,  a  figure  sprang  out  from 
behind  the  waiting  automobile.  For  the  frac- 
tion of  a  second  the  light  shone  full  upon  him, 
photographing  for  an  instant  the  upraised  arm. 
The  sudden,  sharp  hiss  of  a  lash  cut  the  air,  and 
the  man  in  the  car  cried  out  hoarsely.  His 
voice  was  drowned  in  the  ear-splitting  crash  as 
his  car,  swerving  to  one  side,  burst  through  the 
guard-rail  of  the  little  bridge.  There  was  the 
splash  of  water,  the  groan  of  tortured  metal, 
then  silence. 

Ealph  Morton  stood  motionless  in  the  middle 
of  the  road,  listening  with  every  nerve  taut. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  245 

Then,  twisting  the  whip  double,  he  thrust  it 
into  his  automobile,  and,  starting  his  engine, 
sprang  into  the  driver's  seat  and  sped  down  the 
road  like  a  hunted  creature  whose  one  idea  was 
flight. 

Edith  Hale  sat  tense  and  silent  by  her 
mother 's  side.  Her  hands  were  clasped  tightly, 
and  she  gave  seemingly  respectful  heed  to  the 
reminiscences  with  which  the  elder  woman  was 
trying  to  while  away  the  time  for  herself  and 
her  child.  Certainly  the  repetition  of  these 
of t- told  incidents  of  a  bygone  day  had  the  effect 
of  taking  the  narrator's  mind  from  the  near-at- 
hand  troubles  and  perplexities. 

Hearing  them  did  not  have  as  happy  results 
for  the  anxious  girl.  Not  only  had  she  heard 
them  all  before  many  times,  but  the  most  inter- 
esting story  would  not  have  held  her  attention 
under  existing  circumstances.  Her  thoughts 
were  flying  wildly  from  her  lover  to  her  father, 
stopping  occasionally  to  touch  the  orphaned 
girl  who  had  gone  away  so  suddenly  and  so 
ungratefully. 

The  sound  of  a  motor  car  on  the  driveway 
brought  Edith  to  her  feet. 


246  In  the  Web  of  Life 

"That's  father  now!"  she  exclaimed.  "I 
must  see  him!" 

Before  her  mother  could  check  her  she  had 
run  downstairs  and  out  upon  the  veranda. 

It  was  not  the  car  of  the  master  of  the 
house  that  drew  up  at  the  front  steps,  as  a 
voice  that  she  scarcely  recognized  called  to 
her: 

"Is  that  you,  Edith?" 

"Yes,  Ealph!"  she  answered  tremulously. 
"Is  anything  the  matter?" 

"Nothing,"  he  rejoined,  stepping  from  his 
car  to  meet  her  as  she  came  down  the  steps. 
But  he  drew  her  to  one  side  so  that  the  light 
from  the  hall  did  not  shine  on  his  face.  "I 
merely  thought  that  perhaps  it  would  be  as 
well  for  me  to  be  here  when  Tom  came.  Is 
he  here  yet?" 

"No,"  the  girl  told  him,  "he  hasn't  come— 
and — oh, — Ealph ! — Constance  has  gone ! ' ' 

* '  Gone ! ' '  the  other  repeated  blankly. 

"Yes,"  Edith  quavered,  "gone — run  away, 
perhaps.  Father  is  out  in  his  car  now  looking 
for  her.  Oh,  Ealph — it  is  terrible!  Suppose 
people  learn  of  it!  Think  of  the  talk  it  will 
make!" 


In  the  Web  of  Life  247 

"But  where  has  she  gone?"  he  insisted. 
"Didn't  she  leave  any  word — any  message?" 

"  No ! "  Edith  replied.  Then,  her  self-control 
snapping  under  the  strain  put  upon  it  for  the 
past  hour,  she  dropped  her  head  upon  her  lov- 
er 's  shoulder  and  burst  into  sobs. 

Although  Ealph  put  his  arm  around  her  and 
kissed  her,  the  action  was  mechanical,  for  his 
mind  was  working  swiftly.  He  was  suddenly 
himself  again. 

"Perhaps,"  he  said  at  last,  in  a  steady  voice, 
"that  is  why  Tom  Morton  has  not  come." 


Chapter  Seventeen 

Constance  Medford  stood  irresolute  at  the 
corner  of  the  street  on  which  the  Hale  home 
was  situated.  To  her  left  the  New  York  road 
stretched  through  the  blue  gloom  of  the  starlit 
night.  Below,  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  to  the  right, 
the  lights  of  the  village  glowed.  The  tall  elms, 
arched  overhead,  cast  deep  shadows  over  and 
above  her.  "With  a  woman's  impulsive  accept- 
ance of  an  unproved  idea  as  a  fact,  she  had 
rushed  from  the  house  to  meet  and  warn  Tom 
Morton.  Feminine  intuition  had  brought  her 
out  here  and  had  now  as  abruptly  deserted 
her. 

She  stood  hesitating  in  an  agony  of  inde- 
cision. How  was  she  to  find  Tom  ?  What  would 
she  tell  him  if  she  did  find  him?  What  real 
cause  had  she  for  suspecting  Ralph?  These 
questions  assailed  her  and  she  could  answer 
none  of  them.  She  began  to  have  a  childishly 
guilty  feeling.  What  would  her  uncle  and  aunt 
say  if  they  knew  she  had  gone  out  alone  into 
the  street?  Perhaps  they  had  already  discov- 
248 


In  the  Web  of  Life  249 

ered  her  flight  and  were  even  now  searching  for 
her. 

She  glanced  back  at  the  house  apprehensively 
and  congratulated  herself  that  her  dark  cloak 
and  veil  made  her  seem  one  with  the  tree  shad- 
ows. She  shivered  and  drew  her  wrap  more 
closely  around  her.  The  night  was  cool  and 
she  seemed  to  have  been  standing  here  for  a 
long  time.  What  a  fool 's  errand  she  had  come 
on!  With  a  movement  of  determination  she 
started  a  few  steps  toward  the  house  she  had 
just  left,  then  drew  back  as  quickly  into  the 
shadows  and  stood  still  on  the  alert. 

Footsteps  had  sounded  on  the  pavement 
across  the  street.  A  man  was  strolling  slowly 
up  the  hill.  As  he  passed  under  a  street  lamp, 
she  recognized  him  as  the  village  policeman. 
Far  down  the  New  York  road  she  heard  the  reg- 
ular beat  of  a  horse's  hoofs.  The  man  across 
the  street  had  heard  the  sound  too,  and, 
stopping  on  the  corner  opposite  Constance, 
waited. 

A  buggy  turned  into  Homewood  Avenue,  and 
as  the  lantern  swinging  from  the  dashboard 
shone  upon  the  policeman  the  driver  reined  in 
his  horse. 


250  In  the  Web  of  Life 

' '  Hello,  Hen ! "  lie  called,  facetiously.  *  *  What 
yer  doin'?  Huntin'  burglars?" 

''Hello,  Ed!"  the  other  returned,  sedately. 
"Fine  night,  ain't  it!" 

"It's  all  of  that,"  the  man  in  the  buggy 
agreed.  "Had  a  smash-up  down  the  road,  I 
see." 

' '  Hadn  't  heard  of  it, ' '  replied  the  policeman. 
"Ottermobile?" 

"Yeah.  Must  of  skidded,  I  guess.  Bust 
clean  through  the  rail  of  the  Stony  Brook 
bridge  and  lit  in  the  stream  bed.  Ain't  nobody 
there  now.  I  hollered,  but  nobody  didn't  an- 
swer. I  guess  they've  walked  back  to  the  ferry. 
They  left  their  tail-light  burning,  so  there  ain't 
no  danger." 

"More  than  most  of  them  do,"  remarked  the 
other.  "Durn  fools!  Well,  good-night,  Ed! 
Be  good!" 

"So  long,  Hen!" 

The  buggy  rattled  down  the  street.  The  po- 
liceman yawned  widely  and  strolled  back  down 
the  hill.  Had  he  turned  his  head  he  might  have 
been  amazed  by  the  sight  of  a  slight  figure, 
wrapped  in  a  dark  cloak,  running  swiftly  down 
the  road  toward  New  York. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  251 

The  terror  that  Constance  had  felt  earlier  in 
the  evening  had  seized  her  again  as  she  over- 
heard the  conversation  between  the  two  men. 
The  unreasoning  instinct  that  had  driven  her 
from  the  house  sent  her,  panic-stricken,  down 
the  New  York  road  to  the  Stony  Brook  bridge. 
She  ran  until  every  breath  was  a  pain,  then 
walked  until  she  could  once  more  breathe  deep- 
ly, when  she  broke  again  into  a  run. 

Unused  to  being  abroad  at  night  unattended, 
she  forgot  the  nameless  dangers  which  women 
and  children  fear  when  alone  in  the  darkness 
and  silence  of  out  of  doors.  Once  a  car  sped 
toward  her  and  she  shrank  back  in  the  deep 
shade  of  the  roadside  until  the  runabout  had 
passed.  With  her  subconscious  mind  she 
thought  the  figure  in  the  car  was  familiar,  but, 
possessed  as  she  was  by  one  idea,  she  forgot 
it  as  soon  as  it  had  passed. 

By  a  strange  psychosis  which  some  masculine 
minds  cannot  understand,  Constance  Medford 
was  convinced  that  it  was  Tom  Morton's  auto- 
mobile which  lay,  overturned,  beneath  the  shat- 
tered bridge  rail;  moreover  that  Tom  Morton 
lay  beside  it,  senseless,  perhaps  dead.  Her  head 
swam  and  her  feet  stumbled,  yet  she  kept  right 


252  In  the  Web  of  Life 

on,  her  breath  coming  in  heavy  sob-like  gasps. 
She  was  careless  now  of  what  her  uncle  and 
his  family  might  think  or  do,  of  what  Tom  might 
think  could  he  know  all  she  was  suffering  for 
him.  She  only  knew  that  she  loved  this  man ; 
that  she  was  not  ashamed  to  admit  this  to  her- 
self, and  that  he  was  in  danger,  perhaps  beyond 
all  help !  Her  feet  began  to  drag  and  catch  on 
the  stones  of  the  road.  From  the  village  behind 
her  a  clock  struck  ten.  Once  more  she  rallied 
her  tired  body  and  broke  into  a  run. 

Mr.  Hale  was  a  man  who  did  not  often  waver 
in  a  decision,  yet  he  wavered  to-night.  And  'as 
he  was  a  man  he  was  not  supposed  to  yield  to 
the  proverbial  feminine  weakness  of  changing 
his  mind:  Yet  to-night  he  did  even  this.  As 
his  chauffeur  drove,  at  his  bidding,  towards  the 
ferry,  John  Hale  abruptly  countermanded  his 
orders  of  a  moment  before.  What  a  fool  he  had 
been,  he  mused,  not  to  have  questioned  the  sta- 
tion agent  about  Constance,  instead  of  driving 
along  the  public  road  in  this  way  in  search  of 
her.  Moreover,  while  this  was  the  main  car- 
riage and  automobile  thoroughfare  to  the  ferry, 
the  girl  might  have  chosen  a  short  cut  if  she  had 


In  the  Web  of  Life  253 

decided  to  take  a  boat  to  the  city.  Yet  why 
should  she  do  this  when  she  could  have  gone  so 
much  more  quickly  by  train?  If  she  had  be- 
haved in  such  an  ungrateful  and  wrong  way  she 
deserved  to  be  talked  about.  Anxiety  was  tell- 
ing on  John  Hale's  temper,  and  he  spoke 
harshly. 

*  *  Turn  around ! "  he  ordered.  ' '  Drive  back  to 
the  station.  I  will  question  the  agent  about  the 
person  I  am  looking  for. ' ' 

"No,"  the  agent  told  him  five  minutes  later, 
"I  haven't  seen  anybody  from  your  house  come 
in  here  this  evening." 

"A  pretty  mess!"  John  Hale  grumbled  as 
he  climbed  back  into  his  car.  "I  may  as  well 
tell  you,  Eobert,  that  Miss  Medford  has  started 
for  town,  and  I  want  to  stop  her.  Ask  me  no 
questions,"  as  the  man  looked  at  him  in  amaze- 
ment. 

''No,  sir,  I  won't,"  said  the  chauffeur,  sup- 
pressing any  evidence  of  the  curiosity  he  felt. 
As  he  was  driving  the  car  slowly  toward  the 
Hale  home,  having  received  no  further  orders 
from  his  master,  he  offered  a  respectful,  almost 
apologetic  suggestion.  "Excuse  me,  sir,"  he 


254  IH  the  Web  of  Life 

said,  "but  there's  Hen  Mickens  coming  along. 
Perhaps  he's  seen  her." 

"Stop  then!"  commanded  Mr.  Hale.  But  to 
his  guarded  question  as  to  whether  the  police- 
man had  seen  ' '  anyone  from  his  house  pass  re- 
cently, ' '  Mickens  replied  in  the  negative. 

"But,"  added  the  official,  rejoicing  like  all 
of  his  type  in  the  opportunity  to  impart  infor- 
mation, "if  any  of  your  folks  was  ottermobil- 
ing  perhaps  you'd  be  interested  in  seem'  the 
wreck  down  by  Stony  Brook  bridge. " 

Yet,  when  he  had  told  all  he  had  heard  about 
the  wreck,  Mr.  Hale  seemed  to  ignore  his  pres- 
ence, for,  turning  abruptly  to  his  chauffeur,  he 
issued  a  brief  order. 

"Drive  down  the  road  to  New  York!"  he 
said  quickly  and  with  a  decision  that  left  no 
chance  for  questioning. 

John  Hale's  automobile  throbbed  its  way 
along  the  New  York  road.  The  owner  sat  in 
the  tonneau,  besieged  by  a  host  of  unpleasant 
imaginings  and  gloomy  conjectures.  He  was 
tormented  by  thoughts  of  Constance 's  indiscre- 
tion and  ingratitude,  of  his  daughter's  future, 
of  the  gossiping  proclivities  of  his  neighbors, 
of  the  absurdity  of  his  decision  to  take  this 


In  the  Web  of  Life  255 

route.  He  was  ashamed  already  of  the  sharp 
stab  of  fear  that  had  moved  him  to  tell  his 
chauffeur  to  drive  to  the  Stony  Brook  bridge. 
Just  because  the  village  policeman  had  spoken 
of  an  automobile  accident  he,  John  Hale,  sup- 
posed to  be  a  sane,  clear-headed  individual,  had 
rushed  off  on  another  wild  goose  chase! 

With  a  movement  of  impatience  at  his  own 
vacillation,  he  leaned  forward  to  speak  to  his 
chauffeur,  then  uttered  a  sudden  ejaculation 
of  warning  and  lurched  heavily  to  one  side  of 
the  seat  as  Eobert  threw  on  the  brakes  and 
brought  the  car  to  a  sliding  standstill.  Just 
ahead,  the  slim  form  of  a  woman  stood  erect 
in  the  glare  of  the  lights.  The  brilliancy  hid 
from  her  sight  the  faces  of  the  occupants  of 
the  car,  but  she  hurried  forward,  and  spoke  to 
them  before  she  saw  them. 

''If  you  please,"  she  gasped,  "come  and  help 
me !  There's  a  man  here  who  has  been  terribly 
hurt.  You  must  carry  him  to  a  doctor  at  once. 
Hurry,  please!" 

"Constance!"  John  Hale  exclaimed  as  he 
recognized  the  speaker.  "What  are  you  doing 
here?" 

Suspicion  and  anger  mingled  with  astonish- 


256  In  the  Web  of  Life 

ment  in  his  tones,  but  the  girl  took  no  heed  of 
them.  Her  fear  and  agitation  were  too  great 
for  her  to  notice  her  uncle 's  manner  or  to  won- 
der at  his  presence. 

"Oh,  I'm  glad  it  is  you,"  she  said.  "I've 
been  trying  to  lift  Tom,  but  I  can't.  He's  had 
an  accident,  and  is  badly  hurt.  Uncle,  I'm 
afraid " 

But  her  uncle  interrupted  her  angrily. 
Ealph's  insinuations  returned  to  him  again,  and 
he  spoke  harshly.  "And  you,"  he  said,  "what 
are  you  doing  here  ?  How  dare  you  leave  us  as 
you  did !  Your  poor  aunt  is 

The  girl  threw  out  her  arm  to  check  him. 
There  was  a  strange  abandonment  in  the  ges- 
ture. 

"For  God's  sake,"  she  burst  forth,  "don't 
stop  to  talk!  Tom  may  be  dying,  I  tell  you — 
dying !  "What  do  I  matter — what  does  anything 
else  matter  now !  Only  help  him.  Eobert ! ' '  she 
turned  to  the  chauffeur  almost  passionately  as 
she  saw  her  uncle  hesitate.  "Eobert,  come  and 
help  me  get  him  into  the  car !  We  may  be  kill- 
ing him  by  standing  here  talking!" 

Without  a  glance  at  his  employer  the  chauf- 
feur leaped  from  his  seat  and  ran 'with  the  girl 


In  the  Web  of  Life  257 

down  into  the  gully  from  which  the  red  tail- 
light  of  a  car  glared  balefully.  Clambering 
down  after  the  pair,  Mr.  Hale  heard  the  splash- 
ing of  water  and  the  short,  difficult  breathing 
of  one  struggling  with  a  heavy  weight.  Yet  he 
was  too  dazed  to  offer  to  help  the  man  when,  a 
minute  later,  he  staggered  into  the  stream  of 
white  light  that  flowed  from  the  lamps,  drag- 
ging, rather  than  lifting,  a  dark,  limp  form. 

' '  Good  Lord ! ' '  Mr.  Hale  groaned  as  he  caught 
sight  of  the  ghastly  face,  spattered  and  streaked 
with  blood. 

* '  Give  me  a  hand  here,  please  sir ! "  the  chauf- 
feur ordered. 

Without  a  word  the  master  helped  his  em- 
ployee as,  directed  by  Constance,  he  lifted  the 
senseless  weight  into  the  car. 

"Put  him  in  the  tonneau,  Kobert,"  Constance 
commanded.  "Careful!  There — put  his  head 
on  this  cushion.  That's  right!  Uncle,  you  sit 
in  front,  please.  I'll  sit  here  and  hold  him. 
Drive  to  Dr.  Sheffield's,  Eobert,  as  fast  as  you 
can." 

And  this  was  the  creature  who,  nervous  and 
shaken,  had  faced  him  in  his  library  but  a  few 
short  hours  ago!  What  mighty  emotion  had 


258  In  the  Web  of  Life 

worked  this  change  in  her?  Once  during  the 
drive  back  to  Homewood  Avenue  the  elderly 
man  turned  to  speak  to  his  niece,  but  the  dim 
impression  that  he  received  of  the  slender  girl 
clinging  to  the  limp  figure  that  swayed  and 
jerked  with  the  motion  of  the  car  silenced  him. 
A  feeling  of  wondering  compassion  was  con- 
quering him  in  spite  of  his  puzzled  disapproval 
of  his  niece's  actions. 

Yet  he  spoke  gruffly  when  the  car  stopped  at 
Dr.  Sheffield's  house. 

"Here,  Constance,"  he  said,  "Bobert  and  I 
will  lift  Tom.  Go  on  ahead  and  see  if  the  doctor 
is  in." 

When  the  wounded  man  had  been  carried 
into  the  physician's  inner  office,  and  Constance 
and  her  uncle  in  the  waiting-room  were  listen- 
ing to  the  muffled  sounds  on  the  other  side  of 
the  closed  folding  doors,  John  Hale  again 
asked  a  question. 

"Constance,"  he  ventured,  "will  you  try  to 
tell  me  what  this  means  ? ' ' 

His  niece  sat  opposite  him,  pale  and  immo- 
bile. She  did  not  turn  her  head  when  he  spoke, 
but  watched  the  closed  doors  with  fixed  intent- 


In  the  Web  of  Life  259 

ness.  When  she  answered  her  voice  was  mo- 
notonous and  low. 

"Please  don't  talk  to  me  now,  uncle,"  she 
said.  "I  can't  argue  or  explain  yet.  If  I  try 
to  I — I  can't  stand  it — 

She  shuddered  and  her  voice  broke.  Yet  a 
moment  later  she  had  regained  her  self-control 
and  once  more  watched  silently  the  closed  doors. 

After  what  seemed  an  interminable  period 
the  physician  entered  the  room. 

"The  patient  is  very  badly  hurt,"  he  an- 
nounced gravely,  in  response  to  the  question  in 
the  eyes  of  uncle  and  niece.  "Just  how  badly 
I  do  not  know  certainly  yet.  A  collar-bone  is 
broken,  there  is  a  bad  scalp  wound  and  a  slight 
concussion.  Whether  he  is  injured  internally 
or  not  I  cannot  say  until  I  have  had  a  consulta- 
tion. There  is  also  a  heavy  welt  right  across 
the  bridge  of  the  nose,  just  below  the  eyes.  I 
don't  understand  how  he  got  that.  His  face 
may  have  struck  the  windshield  when  the  car 
was  ditched,  but  that  would  have  left  a  bruise — 
at  least  I  should  think  so — and  not  a  mark  like 
this. 

' '  One  would  acutally  think  he  had  been  lashed 
straight  across  the  face  with  a  whip.  But  of 


260  In  the  Web  of  Life 

course  that  is  not  possible.  Still,  the  fact 
remains  that  the  mark  is  a  welt — not  a 
bruise.  I  confess  that  I  do  not  understand 
it!" 

Looking  back  later,  Constance  Medford  had 
some  difficulty  in  recalling  the  occurrences  of 
that  dreadful  evening  on  which  Tom  Morton 
was  injured.  She  remembered  how  she  had 
fled  from  her  uncle's  house  down  the  long  road 
to  Stony  Brook,  how  she  had  peered  into  the 
brook  from  the  broken  bridge  and,  at  first,  had 
seen  nothing  but  the  overturned  car.  She  had 
thought  for  a  moment  that  the  man  who  had 
told  of  the  accident  had  been  right  when  he 
said  that  the  owner  of  the  wrecked  automobile 
had  gone  back  to  town.  Yet,  as  she  gazed  more 
deeply  into  the  darkness  below  her,  she  dis- 
cerned a  shape  huddled  against  the  under  side 
of  the  car,  and,  without  a  moment's  hesitation, 
climbed  down  the  muddy  bank  and  groped  about 
in  the  weeds  and  water  to  ascertain  what  this 
shape  was. 

Evidently  the  car,  in  its  plunge  through  the 
railing,  had  thrown  the  driver  from  the  seat. 
He  had  struck  his  head  against  some  sharp 
stones  and,  while  his  body  had  been  partly  sub- 


In  the  Web  of  Life  261 

merged  in  the  stream,  these  same  rocks  had  held 
his  head  above  the  water. 

She  could  also  recall  how  she  had  tried  to 
move  the  body,  then  how,  hearing  a  car  coming, 
she  had  clambered  back  up  the  bank  and  into 
the  road  with  the  one  idea  of  stopping  the 
driver  even  if  she  must  stand  directly  in  his 
path  to  do  so. 

Yet,  hazy  as  some  of  her  after  recollections 
were,  her  manner  was  calm  and  self-possessed 
through  the  following  scenes  of  the  evening. 
It  was  decided  that  Tom  should  be  taken  at 
once  to  the  Homewood  Hospital,  where  a  con- 
sultation would  be  held.  John  Hale  had  sug- 
gested that  the  patient  might  be  brought  to  his 
home,  but  Dr.  Sheffield  vetoed  this  plan. 

"He  will  be  better  off  in  the  hospital,"  the 
physician  declared.  "I  have  telephoned  to 
have  everything  in  readiness  for  him  there. 
The  ambulance  will  come  for  him  in  a  few  min- 
utes. I  would  advise" — with  a  glance  at  Con- 
stance— "that  you  take  this  young  lady  home 
now.  Neither  you  nor  she  can  do  any  good  by 
remaining  here  longer.  I  will  telephone  to  you 
later  the  result  of  the  consultation." 

Constance  Medford  offered  no  demur.    Tom 


262  In  the  Web  of  Life 

was  in  safe  hands — all  she  could  do  now  was  to 
wait.  That  was,  she  thought  dully,  a  part  of 
a  woman's  work  in  the  world — to  do  all  that 
she  could,  then  step  aside  and  let  those  more 
able  than  she  take  her  place  while  she  awaited 
the  result  of  the  work  which  she  had  begun,  but 
from  which  she  was  now  excluded. 

She  sat  silent  while  her  uncle  telephoned 
Edith  that  he  had  met  Constance  and  would 
bring  her  home  with  him.  She  also  heard  him 
order  his  daughter  to  ask  no  questions,  but 
to  tell  her  mother  that  everything  was  all  right, 
then  go  to  bed. 

"I  think  perhaps  you  would  prefer  seeing 
nobody  to-night,"  he  explained  briefly,  as  he 
returned  to  Constance.  ' 'I  will  have  a  talk  with 
you  in  the  morning.  Now  your  best  plan  would 
be  to  come  home  and  try  to  sleep.  Your  feet 
and  clothes  are  damp  and  muddy,  and  you 
should  change  your  wet  things  for  dry  ones  as 
soon  as  possible.  I  do  not  understand  this 
evening's  happenings,  but  you  may  be  able 
to  explain  some  of  them  to  me  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

The  girl  said  nothing  until  her  uncle  had  as- 
sisted her  from  the  car  at  his  own  house.  Then, 


In  the  Web  of  Life  263 

as  lie  started  to  open  the  door,  she  looked  up 
at  him  pleadingly. 

"Surely,"  she  asked,  "you  will  let  me  know 
what  you  hear  from  the  hospital  before  I  go 
to  bed?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  her  uncle  replied  hastily.  "I 
will  come  to  your  door  and  tell  you  as  soon  as 
I  learn  anything  new." 

"Thank  you,"  she  said.  Then  she  laid  her 
hand  on  his  arm.  "Uncle,"  she  faltered,  her 
deep  gray  eyes  looking  up  into  his  grave 
face,  "I  am  sorry  to  have  given  you  all  this 
trouble." 

The  chauffeur  had  driven  around  to  the 
garage  and  the  pair  stood  facing  each  other. 
One  of  the  servants  had  extinguished  the 
lights  in  the  front  hall,  supposing  that  all  the 
family  were  upstairs.  A  touch  of  the  electric 
button  would  have  flooded  the  vestibule  with 
light,  but  the  master  of  the  house  did  not  touch 
it.  The  moon  had  risen  within  the  past  hour, 
and  was  now  shining  above  the  treetops  on  the 
eastern  side  of  the  broad  lawn.  Its  radiance 
lighted  up  the  pale  face  of  the  slender  girl,  and 
as  her  companion  looked  down  at  her  his  eyes 
softened. 


264  In  the  Web  of  Life 

11  Constance, "  he  said,  "poor  child — don't 
thank  me — only  tell  me  the  truth!" 

She  caught  her  breath  sharply.  "I  have 
always  tried  to  do  that,  uncle,"  she  mur- 
mured. 

"Then,"  he  urged,  laying  a  hand  on  her 
shoulder,  "tell  me  if  you  were  trying  to  run 
away  from  my  home  to-night — and  from  us  who 
have  loved  you. ' ' 

"  Oh,  no ! "  she  protested.  "  I  had  no  thought 
of  running  away — why — how  could  I?" 

John  Hale  drew  a  long  sigh  of  relief ;  then  a 
painful  suspicion  presented  itself  once  more, 
as  it  had  done  earlier  in  the  evening. 

"Forgive  me,"  he  said  brusquely,  "if  I  ask 
you  another  question.  Did  you  know  that  Tom 
was  coming  out  here  to-night?" 

"Yes,"  she  replied.  He  waited  for  her  to 
say  more  but  as  she  remained  silent  he  put  to 
her  another  question — the  one  that  was  burn- 
ing to  be  asked,  and  yet  from  which  his  soul 
recoiled. 

"Can  you,"  he  began;  then  stopped.  "Oh, 
my  dear,"  he  burst  forth  with  a  gesture  of  ex- 
asperation; "I  hate  to  ask  it,  but  I  want  you 
to  say  that  you  did  not  steal  out  of  the  house 


In  the  Web  of  Life  265 

to-night  with  the  thought  in  mind  of — I  mean 
that  you  did  not  go  out  to  meet  Tom!" 

There  was  a  moment  of  intense  stillness. 
The  girl  still  gazed  into  the  keen  eyes  above 
her.  When  she  spoke  all  hope  had  died  from 
her  voice. 

"I  cannot  say  that,  uncle,"  she  replied. 
' '  For  it  would  be  a  lie,  and  you  have  asked  for 
the  truth.  I  did  go  out  of  this  house  to  meet 
Tom.  I  can't  explain  any  more  just  now, 
but " 

The  kindly  hand  fell  from  her  shoulder,  and 
with  a  swift  motion  John  Hale  switched  on  the 
electric  light  above  him.  His  eyes  flashed  an- 
grily as  he  looked  at  the  trembling  girl. 

"No,"  he  said,  " don't  explain  anything. 
There  is  no  need  of  it.  You  would  better  go 
to  your  room  instead." 

And,  opening  the  door,  he  motioned  to  her 
to  go  into  the  house  ahead  of  him. 


Chapter  Eighteen 

With  feverish  haste  Constance  Medford  pre- 
pared for  the  night.  Weary  and  spent,  she  felt 
that  the  only  relief  in  store  for  her  was  to  lose 
consciousness  in  sleep.  She  kept  telling  herself 
that  she  must  not  think,  and  all  the  while  her 
thoughts  chased  each  other  disconnectedly 
through  her  brain.  Keenly  alive  to  every  sound 
in  the  house,  she  fancied  she  heard  the  tele- 
phone ring  downstairs,  but  would  not  allow 
herself  to  pause  in  the  brushing  of  her  hair  to 
listen. 

When,  a  little  later,  her  uncle's  light  tap 
sounded  on  her  door,  she  started  violently,  and 
her  hands  trembled  as  she  fastened  the  wrap- 
per which  she  threw  about  her  before  going  to 
receive  his  message. 

"I  promised,"  John  Hale  said  in  a  low  voice, 
"to  tell  you  what  I  heard  from  the  hospital. 
Dr.  Sheffield  just  rang  me  up  to  say  that  there 
is  little  that  is  new  to  report.  The  patient  has 
partially  recovered  consciousness  and  seems  to 
be  suffering  much  pain.  There  may  be,  as  the 
266 


In  the  Web  of  Life  267 

doctor  has  already  told  us,  some  internal  injury. 
Yet  the  heart  is  strong — and  the  patient  may 
recover." 

The  door  closed  and  he  was  gone  without 
waiting  to  hear  the  girl's  faltering  " Thank 
you!"  She  stood  for  a  long  while  just  where 
he  had  left  her.  She  longed  to  rush  wildly 
after  him,  to  throw  herself  upon  his  breast,  to 
beg  him  to  tell  her  if  he  thought  Tom  was 
going  to  live.  Twenty-four  hours  ago  she  could 
have  done  this  to  the  elderly  man  who,  she  had 
believed  then,  loved  her.  Now  she  could  not. 
She  was  resentful  as  she  recalled  how  he  had 
spoken  of  Tom  only  as  "the  patient,"  just  as 
he  might  have  spoken  of  the  most  casual 
stranger.  What  was  the  matter?  What  had 
Tom  done  I  What  had  she  done  to  merit  such 
treatment? 

Going  into  her  dressing-room  she  dashed  cold 
water  over  her  face  and  neck.  She  must  try 
to  cool  her  brain,  to  see  matters  more  clearly. 
She  braided  her  hair,  put  on  her  night-gown, 
and  knelt,  as  she  had  always  done  since  baby- 
hood, at  the  side  of  her  bed  to  say  her  prayers. 
She  repeated  the  familiar  words,  but  they 
meant  nothing  to  her.  At  last,  with  a  sigh 


268  In  the  Web  of  Life 

that  was  almost  a  sob,  she  exclaimed:  "Oh, 
Lord,  I  am  too  tired  to  pray !  You  know  that ! ' ' 
and  rose  from  her  knees. 

Who  would  dare  assert  that  this  prayer  did 
not  reach  the  Divine  ear,  and  that  the  Lord 
did  not  know  and  understand? 

Throwing  herself  upon  her  bed,  the  weary 
girl  tried  to  sleep.  But  it  was  in  vain.  Con- 
jecture, memories,  fear  stabbed  her  to  vivid 
consciousness  whenever  a  sense  of  drowsiness 
stole  over  her.  She  knew  she  had  a  painful 
problem  to  face  and  she  could  not  sleep  until 
she  had  faced  it.  Finally,  her  eyes  staring 
straight  before  her,  she  whipped  her  jaded  mind 
to  the  task  of  thinking  connectedly,  instead  of 
flying  from  one  subject  to  another  as  it  had 
been  doing  for  the  past  hour. 

The  moonlight  was  so  bright  now  that  she 
could  dimly  trace  the  outline  of  the  pattern  on 
the  wall  paper  on  which  her  eyes  were  fixed. 
Little  by  little  she  reviewed  the  events  of  the 
day  and  evening.  She  recalled  every  word  of 
Edith's  insinuations,  then  she  remembered  Mr. 
Hale 's  accusing  query  just  before  he  opened  the 
front  door  for  her  a  while  ago. 

What    did    father    and    daughter    suspect? 


In  the  Web  of  Life  269 

What  did  they  believe  of  her  and  Tom?  She 
had  pushed  this  question  from  her  again  and 
again.  Now  she  forced  herself  to  answer  it. 
Her  uncle's  query  and  his  ensuing  anger  made 
the  matter  so  plain  that  she  could  not  deceive 
herself  about  it  any  longer.  And  as  she  looked 
at  the  naked  facts  of  his  suspicions  and  of 
Edith's  suggestions,  planted,  Constance  knew, 
by  Ealph,  she  uttered  a  moan  of  anguish. 

Could  anyone  who  knew  her  believe  such 
things  of  her?  Hot  waves  of  shame  and  of 
rage  engulfed  her  and  she  felt  as  if  she  were 
drowning  in  a  sea  of  misery.  Only  a  pure- 
minded,  straightforward  woman,  whose  life  had 
been  protected  from  the  very  shadow  of  evil, 
could  understand  this  girl's  suffering. 

The  hours  dragged  away  while  she  lay  fight- 
ing her  battle  alone.  And  all  at  once  the  tem- 
pest was  succeeded  by  a  strange  calm.  She  was 
no  longer  a  young  and  frightened  girl,  she  told 
herself,  but  a  woman  who  must  meet  life  as  it 
had  been  forced  upon  her  through  no  fault  of 
her  own.  She  thought  she  was  calm,  yet  under- 
neath the  hot  fire  of  resentment  still  burned. 

When  at  last  the  birds  began  to  herald  the 
coming  of  the  day  she  had  reached  a  decision. 


270  In  the  Web  of  Life 

She  could  see  the  first  step  she  must  take.  She 
would  tell  her  uncle  of  this  first  step  when  he 
sent  to  her  for  an  "explanation."  She  would 
give  him  no  explanation.  If  he  could  think  such 
evil  of  her  she  would  not  stoop  to  deny  it. 

She  was  young — and  reached  this  decision 
without  counting  the  cost.  Youth  is  strong  and 
swift  to  resent  and  to  punish  an  injustice. 

It  had  been  a  wonderfully  light  night  since 
she  had  come  to  her  room,  she  mused,  as,  rising 
wearily  from  her  bed,  she  closed  the  blinds  to 
shut  out  the  dawn.  A  cool  wind  had  sprung 
up,  and  she  shivered  as  it  blew  against  her 
body.  She  felt  strangely  weak  and  her  bones 
ached.  She  must  sleep,  or  she  might  be  ill  here 
in  this  house  which  she  was  determined  to  leave 
so  soon.  Now  that  she  had  reached  a  decision, 
she  could  surely  forget  her  troubles  for  a 
while. 

In  a  way  painfully  familiar  to  the  sufferer 
from  insomnia,  she  beat  up  and  turned  over 
her  pillows  before  lying  down  again.  The  ac- 
tion brought  to  her  mind  the  recollection  of 
how,  when  as  a  little  girl  she  had  had  some 
childish  illness,  her  mother  had  "smoothed" 
her  pillows  for  her,  and  with  the  remembrance 


In  the  Web  of  Life  271 

came  a  gush  of  merciful  tears — relieving  the 
tension  of  the  overstrained  nerves. 

' '  Oh,  mother !  mother ! "  the  girl  sobbed,  bury- 
ing her  face  in  the  bed  clothing  that  the  sound 
of  her  passionate  weeping  might  not  be  heard. 
"If  I  only  had  you  now!  If  you  were  only 
here!" 

Perhaps  her  mother  was  there.  For,  an  hour 
later,  when  Mrs.  Hale,  worrying  about  "that 
child,"  stole  softly  to  the  door  and  opened  it 
noiselessly,  Constance  was  lying,  fast  asleep, 
with  a  smile  almost  of  contentment  on  her 
lips. 

"I  don't  know  what's  wrong,"  Mrs.  Hale 
muttered  as  she  returned  to  her  own  room, 
"for  John  wouldn't  talk  about  it  last  night. 
But  this  morning  I  intend  to  learn  what  the 
matter  is. ' ' 

"Constance  must  not  be  disturbed,"  Mrs. 
Hale  had  said  to  her  husband  and  daughter 
when  she  summoned  them  to  breakfast  that 
morning.  The  maids  were  warned  to  "make 
no  noise  for  fear  of  awakening  Miss  Constance, 
who  was  not  well."  The  aunt's  one  thought 
seemed  to  be  for  her  niece's  physical  comfort. 


272  In  the  Web  of  Life 

Yet,  when  the  morning  meal  was  over  and  the 
family  were  alone  together  after  the  waitress 
had  left  the  dining-room,  the  wife  said  decid- 
edly: "Now,  John,  I  want  to  know  what  all 
this  mystery  and  disturbance  mean." 

"I  want  you  to  know,"  her  husband  replied 
promptly.  '  *  I  shall  not  go  to  town  before  eleven 
o'clock.  I  wish  you  and  Edith  to  come  with 
me  into  the  library  for  a  serious  talk." 

As  soon  as  the  trio  were  seated  in  the  library 
the  master  of  the  house  imparted  to  the  shocked 
women  the  news  of  Tom's  accident.  Distressed 
as  Mrs.  Hale  was  to  hear  of  the  catastrophe, 
this  distress  sank  into  insignificance  compared 
with  her  grief  and  pained  incredulity  when  she 
learned  of  what  her  husband  and  daughter  ac- 
cused her  niece.  Edith  added  her  bit  of  infor- 
mation to  the  effect  that  Ealph  had  come  back 
last  night  to  meet  Tom  and  had,  with  what  she 
termed  his  "wonderful  insight,"  guessed  at 
once  that  Constance  had  gone  to  meet  his 
cousin. 

"And  you  see  he  was  right,"  the  girl  insisted, 
a  gleam  of  triumph  in  her  eyes.  "He  could  not 
stay  until  your  return,  father,  for  his  mother 
was  ill — in  spite  of  your  assertions  to  the  con- 


In  the  Web  of  Life  273 

trary.  I  asked  him  if  Peter  had  not  said  that 
his  mother  needed  him,  and  I  reported  to  him 
what  Mrs.  Morton's  maid  had  told  you — and 
he  said  that  the  girl  had  told  you  that  because 
his  mother  did  not  want  anyone  to  know  she 
was  worse.  Edward  Dayton  must  have  been 
mistaken  in  thinking  that  he  met  Ralph  walk- 
ing, for  Ralph  was  in  his  car  and  had  just  been 
down  to  the  village  to  get  something  from  the 
drug-store  for  his  mother." 

"That  is  all  beside  the  question!"  said  Mr. 
Hale  irritably.  "What  is  of  infinitely  more 
importance  than  what  Ralph  did  or  said  last 
night  is  the  fact  that  circumstantial  evidence 
shows  that  Constance  has  deceived  us." 

Of  course,  Mrs.  Hale  protested  that  she  "did 
not  believe  it,"  and  that  "it  could  not  be  true," 
but  at  last,  after  hearing  all  the  evidence,  was 
compelled  to  acknowledge  that  she  "simply 
could  not  understand  it." 

"My  only  hope,"  said  her  husband,  "is  that 
Constance  may  explain  some  seemingly  inex- 
plicable things  and  deny  the  charges  against 
her." 

"If  she  is  innocent  she  will  deny  them," 
said  Edith  judicially— "but  I  fear  she  cannot." 


274  I"  the  We^  °f 


Meanwhile  Kalph  Morton  had  received  his 
morning's  mail  and  with  it  the  letter  from  Tom 
Morton,  written  yesterday  afternoon,  demand- 
ing that  he  come  into  town  to  see  him. 

His  face  paled  as  he  read  it,  for  he  had  not 
slept  well  last  night  and  was  nervous  this  morn- 
ing. A  sudden  idea  occurred  to  him.  He  would 
stop  at  his  fiancee's  house  on  his  way  to  the 
station.  He  told  his  mother  a  hasty  good-by  — 
congratulating  her  upon  looking  so  well  this 
morning,  and  felt  no  pangs  of  conscience  for 
having  lied  about  her  condition  last  night. 

He  had  a  part  to  act,  and  he  must  act  it 
well.  He  rehearsed  it  mentally  on  his  brisk 
walk  to  the  Hale  home  where  the  maid  ushered 
him  into  the  library.  As  he  wished  to  have 
his  stage-setting  correct,  he  glanced  eagerly  at 
the  open  hearth.  He  knew  that  it  was  Mrs. 
Hale's  custom  to  have  a  fire  lighted  here  each 
morning,  even  after  Spring  had  arrived.  To- 
day was  unusually  cool  for  this  time  of  year, 
and  the  logs  were  blazing  merrily. 

'  '  Good  morning,  '  '  he  said  to  the  group  gath- 
ered here,  then,  without  further  preamble, 
turned  quickly  to  his  host.  "You  found  Con- 
stance, didn't  you?"  he  said,  with  apparent 


In  the  Web  of  Life 


anxiety.  "Edith  telephoned  a  guarded  mes- 
sage to  me  to  that  effect  last  night.  I  confess 
that  since  the  receipt  of  this  letter  from  Tom 
just  now,  I  am  surprised  to  know  that  she  re- 
turned." 

He  drew  Tom's  envelope  from  his  pocket  and 
held  it  so  that  each  person  present  recognized 
Tom  Morton's  bold  chirography.  "And  did 
Tom  come  too  T  "  he  asked  abruptly. 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Hale;  "he  --  " 

"Ah,  I  thought  not!"  Ealph  interrupted  him. 
"When  I  read  this  I  was  sure  of  it.  But  how 
did  their  plans  miscarry  —  his  and  Constance  's, 
I  mean,  so  that  she  came  back  last  night  in- 
stead of  -  " 

He  stopped  as  if  checking  himself  on  the 
verge  of  the  admission  of  some  shameful  secret. 
"I  would  like  to  know,"  he  added  more  cau- 
tiously, coming  closer  to  Mr.  Hale  and  dropping 
his  voice,  "what  message  Tom  sent  you  to  ac- 
count for  his  absence.  I  must  know  before  I 
show  you  his  letter.  '  ' 

Mr.  Hale  spoke  sternly,  with  no  effort  to 
soften  what  might  be  a  blow  to  the  cousin  of 
the  injured  man.  '  '  He  sent  no  message,  Ealph,  '  ' 
he  said.  "He  could  not  —  for  he  had  a  bad  acci- 


276  In  the  Web  of  Life 

dent.  He  is  fearfully  hurt — is  in  the  hospital — 
he  may  die. ' ' 

The  pallor  that  swept  over  Ralph  Morton's 
face  was  not  the  result  of  acting.  The  words 
"may  die"  staggered  him.  But  he  did  not  for- 
get the  role  he  had  laid  out  for  himself. 

"Accident!"  he  gasped.  "Tom — hurt — Tom 
— in  the  hospital !  Oh,  why  didn't  you  send  for 
me?  Why  didn't  you  let  me  know?" 

"What  would  have  been  the  use?"  Mr.  Hale 
rejoined  more  kindly.  "You  could  have  done 
nothing.  He  was  in  competent  hands." 

The  young  man  stood  for  a  moment  as  if 
stunned.  Then  he  looked  at  the  letter  he  still 
held.  John  Hale,  seeing  the  look,  held  out  his 
hand. 

"Let  me  see  that  letter,"  he  demanded. 
"You  were  going  to  show  it  to  me." 

But  Ralph  drew  back.  "Oh,  no!"  he  ex- 
claimed. '  *  I  can 't  now !  Oh,  poor  Tom ! ' ' 

Mr.  Hale  moved  impatiently.  "Tom's  acci- 
dent has  not  altered  his  character, ' '  he  declared. 
"If  there  is  anything  in  that  letter  that  I" 
—he  hesitated— "that  I,  as  Miss  Medford's 
uncle,  should  know — I  have  a  right  to  see 
it." 


In  the  Web  of  Life  277 

Before  anyone  present  could  guess  his  inten- 
tion, Balph  stepped  quickly  to  the  open  fire- 
place and  dropped  the  letter  into  the  heart  of 
the  leaping  flames.  As  John  Hale,  with  an  ex- 
clamation of  dismay,  sprang  forward  to  snatch 
at  the  blazing  paper,  the  young  man  laid  a 
strong  hand  on  his  arm. 

'  *  Don 't  sir ! "  he  said  sternly.  ' '  Tom  is  hurt 
— he  may  die — nobody  must  ever  know  what 
was  in  that  letter." 

For  a  moment  nobody  spoke.  Then  as  the 
burning  paper  turned  to  gray  ashes  Ealph  Mor- 
ton looked  at  his  host. 

"Forgive  me,  sir,"  he  said.  "It  is  better 
so.  You  see — Tom  is  my  cousin,  and" — with 
a  break  in  his  voice — "I  once  loved  him  and 
trusted  him." 

John  Hale  held  out  his  hand,  "You  are  a 
noble  man,  Ealph, ' '  he  replied  huskily.  ' '  I  seem 
never  to  have  known  you  until  now." 

"I  am  not  noble,  sir,"  Balph  protested,  re- 
turning the  cordial  handclasp  but  dropping  his 
eyes  before  the  frank  admiration  in  the  gaze  of 
the  other  man.  "It  is  only  what  any  fellow 
would  have  done.  Why,  Edith!"  his  tone 
changing  to  tenderness  as  he  glanced  at  his 


278  In  the  Web  of  Life 

betrothed,  "why,  little  girl,  what  are  you  cry- 
ing about?" 

He  put  his  arm  about  her  and  drew  her  to 
him,  glad,  perhaps,  of  an  excuse  to  let  go  of 
his  host's  honest  hand.  The  host  himself  looked 
away  hastily.  He  might  be  willing  to  acknowl- 
edge that  he  had  been  mistaken  in  this  man's 
character,  might  be  willing  to  accept  him  as  his 
daughter's  suitor — but  that  father  does  not 
exist  who  does  not  feel  a  chill  of  repulsion  when, 
for  the  first  time,  he  sees  his  best-loved  child 
in  the  arms  of  the  man  who  is  to  take  her  away 
from  him. 

Edith  gazed  up  into  her  lover's  eyes.  "I'm 
silly  to  cry,  I  suppose,"  she  whispered,  "but 
you  are  so  fine,  so  splendid!" 

Mrs.  Hale's  matter-of-fact  accents  broke  in 
upon  the  sentimentality  of  the  occasion. 
"Nevertheless,"  she  said,  with  cold  practical- 
ity, "I  think  that  we  have  a  right  to  know  what 
was  in  that  letter." 

"I  am  sorry,  my  dear  Mrs.  Hale,"  rejoined 
Ealph,  releasing  Edith  and  replying  to  her 
mother's  suggestion,  "but  I  cannot  tell  anyone 
what  was  in  that  letter.  If  Tom  dies" — he 
paused  as  if  the  idea  were  painful  to  him — 


In  the  Web  of  Life  279 

"nobody  must  ever  know  what  lie  wrote  me. 
If  he»  lives — I  cannot  betray  Ms  secret.  Had 
he  not  had  this  accident  matters  would  have 
been  different,  for  then  he  could  have  faced  us 
all,  if  need  be,  and  defended  himself.  As  it  is, 
he  was  not  allowed  to  carry  out  his  designs. 
To  tell  what  they  were  would  be  to  punish  him 
and — another — for  what  did  not  happen. ' ' 

"And  that  'other'  was — whom?"  Mrs.  Hale 
insisted.  "Do  you  mean  to  intimate  that  my 
niece  knows  the  contents  of  that  letter?" 

John  Hale  looked  at  his  wife  in  surprise. 
He  thought  he  understood  her  every  mood,  but 
until  now  he  had  never  seen  her  when  one  of 
her  own  sex  whom  she  loved  and  had  trusted 
was  accused  of  that  which  was  degrading  to 
her  womanhood. 

"Martha,  my  dear,"  he  protested,  "this  is 
not  the  kind  of  matter  of  which  you  wish  to 
know  more.  Personally,  I  have  heard  and  seen 
enough  to  convince  me,  against  my  will,  that 
we  have  been  mistaken  in  the  character  of  the 
niece  you  loved " 

He  stopped  abruptly,  for  the  door  opened 
quietly  and  Constance  stood  before  them.  For 
months  afterward  John  Hale  could  not  erase 


280  In  the  Web  of  Life 

from  his  memory  the  girl's  face  and  attitude 
as  she  stood  looking  from  one  to  the  other  of 
the  group.  She  had  put  on  a  black  street  dress 
— for  she  still  wore  mourning — and  the  soft 
black  tulle  that  filled  in  the  open  triangle  at 
the  throat  accentuated  her  clear  pallor.  Her 
deep  gray  eyes  seemed  larger  and  darker  than 
usual  because  of  the  shadowy  rings  around 
them — rings  caused  by  long  hours  of  sleepless- 
ness. Her  chestnut  hair  was  coiled  low  at  the 
back  of  her  shapely  head,  and  her  lips  drooped 
slightly  at  the  corners,  giving  a  plaintive,  pen- 
sive expression  to  the  sensitive  mouth. 

She  resembled  strangely  a  well-known  pre- 
sentment of  Joan  of  Arc  by  an  Italian  sculptor. 
Anyone  gazing  at  her  would  have  found  it  dif- 
ficult to  believe  that  a  smirch  of  scandal  could 
ever  touch  this  refined  creature.  Yet  as  her 
glance  rested  upon  Kalph  the  soft  lines  of  her 
mouth  hardened  and  she  took  a  step  toward  her 
uncle. 

"I  knocked,  but  you  did  not  hear  me,"  she 
said  simply.  "I  waited  upstairs  for  you  to 
send  for  me,  but  as  you  did  not  do  so  I  have 
taken  the  liberty  of  coming  unsummoned.  May 


SHE    RESEMBLED    STRANGELY  A  WELL-KNOWN    PRESENTMENT    OF    JOAN 

OF  ARC  BY  AN  ITALIAN   SCULPTOR 


In  the  Web  of  Life  281 

I  speak  with  you  alone — at  least" — with  a  catch 
in  her  breath — "with  only  aunt  present?'* 

The  usually  sweet  and  trainante  voice  was 
this  morning  a  dull  monotone.  Any  compunc- 
tion that  had  seized  John  Hale  as  he  saw  the 
solitary  and  pathetic  figure  in  the  doorway  was 
changed  to  surprised  disapproval  by  this 
speech. 

"I  think,"  he  said  coldly,  "that  your  temper 
has  not  been  improved  by  a  night  of  reflection 
if  you  can  still  cherish  such  anger  against  your 
cousin  and  her  betrothed  that  you  ask  me  to 
send  them  out  of  your  presence. ' ' 

The  retort  went  straight  home,  but  Constance 
had  steeled  herself  to  maintain  a  stony  calm. 
"I  only  meant,  uncle,"  she  explained,  "that  I 
prefer  telling  my  plans  to  those  who  are  truly 
interested  in  me.  May  I  see  you  alone?" 

Mrs.  Hale  rose  from  her  chair.  "I  am  sorry, 
Constance,"  she  said,  with  an  effort  to  speak 
sternly,  "that  you  are  so  angry  with  Edith. 
She,  poor  child,  was  very  unhappy  about  you 
last  night." 

"I  am  sorry  I  made  anybody  unhappy  last 
night,"  Constance  rejoined,  still  in  an  emotion- 
less tone.  "I  did  not  intend  to  do  so." 


282  In  the  Web  of  Life 

"Constance!"  her  aunt  appealed  to  her  sud- 
denly and  impulsively.  "What  did  you  intend 
to  do  last  night?  I  don't  want  to  believe  what 
I've  heard!" 

But  John  Hale  interposed  before  his  wife 
could  say  any  more.  "If  you  please,  Martha," 
he  said  with  dignity,  "I  prefer  that  you  leave 
this  matter  with  me.  I  know  enough  already 
to  prove  to  you  that  Constance  has  deceived 
us.  If  you  will  leave  her  with  me  now,  she  and 
I  will  come  to  an  understanding.  Perhaps," 
with  a  reproachful  look  at  the  black-clad  figure, 
"I  may  then  hear  from  her  that  which  Balph's 
nobility  has  prevented  his  telling  us  of  her 
assignation  with  Tom  last  night." 

The  flood  of  crimson  that  sprang  to  the  ac- 
cused girl's  face  retreated  as  quickly,  leaving 
her  paler  than  before.  "What  do  you  mean?" 
she  demanded,  turning  swiftly  upon  Kalph. 
"What  do  you  mean,  I  say?" 

"My  lips  are  sealed  by  a  sense  of  honor," 
the  man  replied  significantly. 

The  answer  struck  a  blaze  of  wrath  from  what 
had  seemed  a  moment  before  like  the  flint  of 
this  girl's  composure.  She  smote  her  hands 
sharply  together. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  283 

"Honor!"  she  exclaimed.  "H*onor — from 
you!" 

And  as  she  saw  the  malignant  gleam  in  the 
man 's  eyes,  she  burst  into  a  scornful  laugh. 


Chapter  Nineteen 

A  man  may  have  a  quick  temper,  but  his 
ability  to  control  it  depends  largely  on  his 
physical  and  nervous  state.  That  which  he 
would  regard  at  one  time  as  a  mere  annoy- 
ance will  at  another  time  cause  him  to  give  vent 
to  sudden  passion.  While  John  Hale  had  a  hot 
temper,  he  usually  had  no  trouble  in  conceal- 
ing any  undue  manifestation  of  its  existence. 

This  morning,  however,  the  case  was  differ- 
ent. Anxiety,  a  restless  night,  disagreeable 
surprises,  had  contributed  to  put  him  in  a  con- 
dition where  Constance's  words  had  the  power 
to  make  him  very  nearly  forget  the  fact  that  he 
was  a  gentleman  and  that  this  girl  was  under 
his  roof.  His  wife,  seeing  the  light  of  anger 
leap  to  his  eyes,  noting  the  sudden  clenching 
of  his  hands  and  the  stiffening  of  the  muscles 
of  his  mouth  and  chin,  knew  that  a  storm  was 
not  only  brewing,  but  was  about  to  break. 
With  a  brief  command  to  her  daughter  and 
Ealph  to  come  with  her,  she  retreated  with  as 
much  haste  as  was  consistent  with  dignity,  leav- 
284 


In  the  Web  of  Life  285 

ing  what  she  thought  of  as  "this  horrible  mess" 
to  be  settled  by  her  husband  and  her  niece. 

She  was  the  more  willing  to  do  this  as  she 
found  herself  all  at  once  incensed  by  Con- 
stance 's  attitude.  She  had  tried  to  plead  kindly 
with  the  girl  and  had  met  with  no  response. 
How  could  she  know  that  Constance's  only 
safety  lay  in  maintaining  her  self-imposed  poise 
and  that  had  she  allowed  herself  to  reply  to  her 
aunt  her  composure  would  have  vanished? 
Moreover,  Mrs.  Hale's  maternal  love  was 
wounded  by  Constance's  manner  toward  Edith 
and  Edith's  betrothed.  All  these  facts  made 
her  feel  justified  in  retreating  from  the  scene 
of  conflict. 

The  door  had  hardly  closed  behind  Ralph, 
who  had  stood  aside  to  allow  the  ladies  to  pass 
out  before  him,  when  Constance  spoke,  her  tone 
so  humble  as  to  be  in  conspicuous  contrast  to 
the  voice  in  which  she  had  resented  Ralph's 
reply  to  her  vehement  demand. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  uncle,"  she  said,  "for 
speaking  in  your  presence  as  I  did  just  now. 
But  I  was  justifiably  angry — yet  you  know  it 
was  not  at  you. ' ' 

There  was  no  responsive  softness  in  John 


286  In  the  Web  of  Life 

Hale's  reply.  On  the  contrary,  his  voice  was 
sharp  and  rasping.  He  was  intensely  angry  and 
he  did  not  care  if  the  object  of  his  wrath  knew 
it. 

"I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  I  will  accept  your 
apology,"  he  retorted.  "I  am  so  much  dis- 
pleased with  you  that  I  cannot  talk  to  you  or 
think  of  you  with  any  patience.  You  have  car- 
ried on  a  clandestine  affair  with  a  man  to  whom 
your  cousin  was  engaged,  have  insulted  my 
child,  have  forgotten  your  duty  to  your  aunt 
and  me  by  bursting  into  a  rage  against  our 
guest  and  future  son-in-law — have,  in  fact,  be- 
haved in  such  a  manner  that  unless  you  are  in- 
sane I  see  no  excuse  in  the  world  for  you ! ' ' 

The  girl  at  whom  he  addressed  this  tirade 
stood  as  if  turned  to  stone.  Her  silence  fanned 
his  wrath.  When  one  receives  no  reply  to  vio- 
lent accusations  one  is  conscious  of  a  madden- 
ing sense  of  impotence.  It  is  like  beating  the 
air  with  one's  fists. 

"Have  you  nothing  to  say?"  queried  the  in- 
censed man. 

"Only  to  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  for  my  seem- 
ing ingratitude.  I  do  not  apologize  for  the 


In  the  Web  of  Life  287 

things  you  accuse  me  of,  but  I  have  been  grate- 
ful, in  spite  of  appearances  to  the  contrary." 

"Who's  asking  for  gratitude?"  stormed 
John  Hale.  "Don't  dare  suggest  to  me  that  I 
am  looking  for  thanks  from  you !  I  have  never 
thought  of  them  and  I  don 't  expect  them !  But 
I  do  want  you  to  explain  to  me  your  course 
lately ;  I  do  want  you  to  tell  me  that  the  things 
which  I  have  been  told  about  you  (which,  please 
remember,  I  did  not  believe  until  I  had  to) 
are  false.  Can  you  deny  them?" 

He  had  not  reckoned  on  the  resentment  of 
injustice  in  the  breast  of  his  opponent — for  this 
is  what  for  the  moment  he  felt  her  to  be — and 
he  started  with  surprise  at  her  reply. 

"Whether  I  can  deny  them  or  not,"  she  said, 
"I  do  not  propose  to  do  so.  If  you  can  believe 
me  capable  of  the  things  of  which  you  accuse 
me,  nothing  I  might  say  could  make  any  dif- 
ference." 

She  faced  him  proudly  for  an  instant,  un- 
flinching under  his  stern  gaze.  Then  she  spoke 
again. 

"Even  if  I  cannot  say  what  you  wish,  I  must 
say  once  more  that  I  am  grateful  to  you  and 
aunt  for  all  that  you  have  done  for  me  since  I 


In  the  Web  of  Life 


came  here.  It  is  only  fair  to  you  both — and  to 
Edith — that  I  do  not  stay  here  any  longer.  I 
would  not  leave  without  telling  you — so  I  want 
you  to  know  that  I  am  going  away  to-day.  I 
am  aware,"  hesitatingly,  "that  I  am  much  in 
your  debt — financially,  I  mean — for  you  have 
never  allowed  me  to  pay  for  my  board  and 
lodging.  "What  I  owe  you  for  many  kindnesses 
can  never  be  repaid,  but  I  hope  some  day  to 
refund  you  for — for — other  things." 

"This  is  sheer  madness  and  wicked  temper 
on  your  part,  Constance ! ' '  the  man  began.  She 
stopped  him  with  an  uplifted  hand. 

"I  do  not  wish,"  she  said  wearily,  "to  talk 
any  longer  about  this  matter.  Will  you  explain 
it  all  to  aunt  for  me — please?" 

"Don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself,  girl!"  he 
blustered.  But  without  waiting  to  hear  any- 
thing more  she  went  quickly  from  the  room. 

John  Hale  dropped  into  his  desk-chair,  and, 
leaning  back,  closed  his  eyes.  He  felt  shaken 
and  quivering.  "I  haven't  let  myself  get  as 
angry  as  that  for  years, ' '  he  murmured.  "And 
all  for  a  chit  of  a  girl!  She  won't  leave  us — 
unless  we  send  her  away.  No  fear  of  that. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  289 

She's  too  smart  to  quarrel  with  her  bread  and 
butter  yet  awhile!" 

Which  sentiment  only  proved  that  he  was 
still  angry.  Nor  was  he  yet  calm  in  mind  when 
he  caught  the  eleven  o  'clock  train  for  New  York. 

Being  a  man,  he  did  not  understand  feminine 
psychology,  so  he  could  hardly  be  expected  to 
know  that  Constance  had  already  packed  her 
trunk,  leaving  in  closets  and  bureau  drawers  all 
of  the  jewelry  and  clothing  that  the  Hales  had 
given  her  and  taking  with  her  only  the  articles 
with  which  she  had  come  to  their  home. 

At  twelve  o  'clock,  when  Mrs.  Hale  and  Edith 
had  gone  out  for  an  hour's  drive  before  lunch- 
eon to  "quiet  their  nerves,"  Constance  sum- 
moned a  cab  from  the  livery  stable  and  had  her- 
self and  her  luggage  carried  to  the  railroad 
station. 

But  she  left  behind,  on  her  aunt's  dressing 
table,  a  little  note  of  apology  and  affection. 
Her  aunt,  in  reading  it,  noted  regretfully — in 
spite  of  her  indignant  grief  and  agitation — that 
it  contained  no  farewell  message  for  "poor 
Edith." 

Constance  Medford's  decision  may  have  been 
the  result  of  resentful  impulse,  but  she  had 


290  In  the  Web  of  Life 

planned  her  first  step  and  could  see  it  plainly. 
Beyond  this  she  would  not  look  just  yet. 

She  was  not  penniless,  for  her  expenses  had 
been  few  and  she  had  saved  much  of  the  money 
she  had  earned  by  giving  music  lessons.  This 
was  in  the  little  bag  which  she  grasped  tightly 
as  she  alighted  from  the  New  York  train.  She 
remembered  with  a  sense  of  gratitude  that  her 
patrons  had  been  in  the  habit  of  paying  her  on 
the  fifteenth  of  each  month,  and  that  only  last 
week  she  had  received  almost  all  the  money 
due  her.  This  would  support  her  until  she  could 
secure  a  few  music  pupils.  She  would  drop  a 
line  to  each  of  them  to-night,  saying  that  she 
had  been  called  away,  and  advising  them  to  se- 
cure some  other  teacher.  At  first  she  had 
thought  of  commuting  to  Homewood.  In  the 
light  of  recent  events  she  felt  she  could  not  do 
this. 

As  a  child,  Constance  Medford  had  had  a 
governess  of  whom  she  was  very  fond.  She 
was  a  Mrs.  Blair — whose  husband  had  died  at 
the  end  of  a  year  of  wedded  life.  She  had  been 
a  school  friend  of  Constance's  mother.  For  a 
while  the  young  widow  had  barely  supported 
herself  by  conducting  a  small  kindergarten,  but 


In  the  Web  of  Life  291 

when,  under  the  strain  of  work  and  anxiety,  her 
health  broke  down,  Mrs.  Medford  had  taken  her 
to  her  home  and  nursed  her  back  to  health,  then 
offered  her  the  position  of  governess  to  her 
little  daughter.  This  offer  the  widow  accepted 
thankfully  and  became  Constance's  only  in- 
structor. 

Even  after  Mrs.  Medford 's  death  Mrs.  Blair 
continued  to  teach  the  motherless  child,  but 
when  Constance  was  fourteen  the  conscientious 
governess  began  to  fear  that  her  methods  were, 
perhaps,  behind  the  times,  and  she  wondered 
if  it  were  not  her  duty  to  withdraw  and  allow 
her  charge 's  education  to  be  carried  on  by  more 
competent  persons  than  herself.  The  news  that 
a  distant  relative  of  her  own  had  died,  leaving 
her  his  property — the  income  from  which  would 
enable  her  to  live  simply  but  comfortably 
— decided  the  matter  for  her,  and  she  settled 
in  a  small  apartment  in  New  York.  Here  she 
had  resided  for  years,  satisfied  with  her  books 
and  charitable  work,  and  here  her  former  pupil 
often  went  to  see  her. 

It  was  to  Mrs.  Blair's  home  that  Constance 
directed  her  steps  to-day  as  soon  as  she  reached 
New  York.  As  she  rode  uptown  she  tried  to 


292  In  the  Web  of  Life 

forget  that  there  was  now  no  place  in  the  world 
which  she  could  feel  she  had  a  right  to  call 
"home."  Perhaps  the  loneliest  place  in  the 
world  to  the  homeless  man  or  woman  is  a  great 
city.  One  feels  apart  from  the  busy,  hustling 
throng  all  working  for  their  own  homes  or  to 
maintain  homes  for  those  they  love.  Con- 
stance felt  a  lump  come  in  her  throat  as  she 
faced  the  future,  but  she  conquered  the  pang  of 
self-pity  and  told  herself  that  she  was,  after 
all,  not  so  very  desolate. 

To  her  relief  she  found  her  old  friend  in, 
and  laid  before  her  the  plan  which  she  had 
formed.  She  would  like,  she  said,  to  share  Mrs. 
Blair's  apartment — at  least  to  be  allowed  to 
sleep  on  the  couch  in  the  hall  bedroom  until 
such  time  as  she  could  secure  enough  music 
pupils  to  warrant  her  in  taking  a  room  in  a 
respectable  boarding  house  and  hiring  her  own 
piano. 

"You  see  I  have  plenty  of  money  to  pay 
you  board  for  some  weeks, ' '  she  explained  hur- 
riedly, "and  I  am  sure  you  will  not  object  to 
my  using  your  piano  for  practising — in  fact,  I 
would,  of  course,  want  to  pay  for  the  use  of  that 
too." 


In   the  Web   of  Life  293 

She  talked  fast  and  excitedly,  telling  the  story 
she  had  outlined  in  the  early  morning  hours. 
She  told  nothing  that  was  not  true,  yet  she  with- 
held the  truths  that  she  could  not  bring  herself 
to  tell.  She  explained  that  for  reasons  which 
she  could  not  divulge — " family  reasons"  she 
called  them — she  had  decided  to  leave  her 
uncle's  home.  She  did  not  want  anyone  to 
know  her  whereabouts.  Then  she  hesitated  and 
blushed  hotly.  She  would  like,  if  possible,  to 
have  her  new  scholars  know  her  by  an  assumed 
name. 

But  at  this  suggestion  Mrs.  Blair  gasped  so 
audibly  that  Constance  stopped  with  a  sudden 
appreciation  of  all  that  she  had  been  demanding 
of  this  friend. 

"Oh,"  she  exclaimed  contritely,  "I  have  been 
so  full  of  thoughts  of  myself  that  I  have  not 
thought  of  all  the  trouble  I  may  cause  you! 
Tell  me  frankly  if  you  would  rather  not  take 
me  in." 

"Dear  child!"  exclaimed  the  sweet-faced 
woman,  "I  want  you  here.  I  get  very  lonely 
sometimes — even  though  I  am  content  with  my 
lot.  Think  what  your  mother  did  for  me. 
Should  I  not  welcome  her  daughter  as  if  she 


294  In  the  Web  of  Life 

were  my  very  own  1  But,  dear,  you  say  you  can- 
not tell  me  the  family  reasons  that  make  this 
course  advisable.  Yet" — she  colored  painfully 
— ' '  surely,  if  you  are  going  to  take  an  assumed 
name,  there  must  be  some  reason." 

She  paused,  overcome  by  embarrassment. 
"You  know  I  trust  you,"  she  added. 

With  an  impetuous  movement  Constance 
threw  her  arms  about  her  companion  and  gazed 
into  the  kindly,  troubled  eyes.  ''Look  at  me," 
the  girl  said  solemnly.  "I  give  you  my  word 
of  honor  that  I  am  doing  nothing  of  which  my 
mother  or  father  would  disapprove — if — if — 
they  were  here  and  knew  the  circumstances," 
her  voice  breaking  suddenly. 

The  woman,  who  although  childless,  had  a 
mother-heart,  drew  the  girl's  head  down  upon 
her  breast  and  stroked  the  shining  hair. 
' « There,  there,  dear ! "  she  soothed.  « '  That's  all 
right !  Come  and  stay  with  me  as  long  as  you 
like.  If  there  are  things  you  can't  tell  me — 
never  mind.  And,  dear,  if  you  want  to  give 
references  to  the  parents  of  your  possible  pu- 
pils— just  give  my  name.  It  may  not  be  worth 
much,  but" — with  a  little  laugh — "it  is  very 


In  the  Web   of  Life  295 

respectable,  and  you  are  welcome  to  use  it  as 
often  as  it  can  be  of  service  to  you." 

Constance  joined  in  her  laugh,  winking  hard 
to  dispel  the  tears  that  had  sprung  to  her  eyes — 
and  the  little  joke  seemed  to  clear  the  over- 
charged atmosphere.  Later,  when  she  went  to 
the  station  to  order  her  trunk  sent  to  Mrs. 
Blair's  apartment,  she  stepped  into  a  telephone 
booth,  and,  calling  up  the  Homewood  Hospital, 
asked  tremulously,  in  spite  of  her  efforts  to 
speak  indifferently,  how  Mr.  Morton  was. 

"He  is  resting  more  comfortably,"  the  office 
attendant  said.  * '  Who  shall  I  say  asked  I ' ' 

"Oh,  never  mind!"  the  girl  replied  hastily. 
Then  she  hung  up  the  receiver  and  hurried 
from  the  booth  as  if  afraid  that  her  presence 
there  might  betray  her  identity  to  the  official 
away  out  in  the  Homewood  Hospital. 


Chapter  Twenty 

There  is  nearly  always  a  deadly  lull  that  fol- 
lows upon  agitation  or  excitement  of  any  kind. 
Especially  is  this  the  case  when  the  excitement 
has  been  of  a  painful  nature,  racking  nerves 
and  trying  tempers.  While  one  is  in  the  midst 
of  the  turmoil  there  is  a  wild  desire  to  escape 
it,  but  when  it  is  all  over  and  life  returns  to  its 
uneventful  calm  one  is  suddenly  overcome  by 
ennui  or  saddened  by  the  deadly  monotony  of 
existence. 

Edith  Hale  was  disagreeably  aware  of  this 
state  of  affairs  in  her  home  during  the  days 
following  upon  Constance's  departure.  John 
Hale — with  an  authority  which  his  wife  and 
daughter  did  not  dispute — directed  them  to  in- 
form the  servants  and  any  neighbors  who  might 
ask  about  Constance  that  the  girl  had  not  been 
well  and  had  gone  to  visit  friends  in  the  hope 
that  the  change  of  air  might  be  beneficial  to 
her. 

1  'Later,"  the  master  of  the  house  said,  "when 
Constance  gets  tired  of  playing  the  fool  and 
296 


In  the  Web  of  Life  297 

lets  us  know  her  whereabouts — if  she  ever  does 
— we  can  give  some  equally  plausible  excuse  for 
her  absence.  For,  of  course,  she  must  not  re- 
turn here." 

' 'Of  course  not!"  rejoined  his  wife.  Even 
while  she  wished  that  she  knew  where  "the 
child"  was  she  looked  at  Edith  and  hardened 
her  heart  against  the  offender.  Yet  she  felt  de- 
pressed as  she  set  about  to  transform  Con- 
stance's room  into  the  guest  chamber  that  it 
had  been  before  the  girl's  advent  into  the  home. 
Gathering  up  the  various  articles  that  her  niece 
had  left  behind  her,  the  aunt  put  them  away  in 
a  box  on  the  top  shelf  of  her  own  closet. 

She  was  ashamed  to  feel  the  tears  rise  to  her 
eyes  as  she  did  this,  and  she  told  herself  that 
it  was  only  because  she  was  remembering  her 
poor  sister — Constance's  mother. 

"Up  in  Heaven,  where  she  is  now,"  mused 
the  pious  soul,  "she  must  know  it  is  not  our 
fault  that  Constance  has  behaved  as  she  has. 
If  the  dead  do  know  what  goes  on  down  here 
they  must  be  mighty  uncomfortable  sometimes. 
And  if  they  don't  know,  they  must  be  uneasy, 
too.  That's  one  thing  about  the  state  of  the 
blessed  that  I  never  can  understand,  so  why 


298  In  the  Web  of  Life 

think  about  it?  I've  got  plenty  of  earthly 
things  to  bother  me  yet  a  while. ' ' 

One  of  these  "things"  was  her  daughter's 
restlessness  and  moodiness.  Probably  the  dear 
child  was  grieving  over  Constance 's  unkindness 
and  was  still  suffering  from  the  shock  of  Tom's 
treachery  and  accident.  Indeed,  only  this 
morning  Edith  had  betrayed  what  was  on  her 
mind  by  bringing  to  her  mother  the  engage- 
ment ring  that  Tom  had  given  her  weeks  ago. 

"What  shall  I  do  with  this?"  she  had  asked, 
looking  at  it  with  an  expression  of  aversion. 
*  *  I  don 't  want  to  keep  it  a  minute  longer.  Sup- 
pose he  dies!" 

"You'd  better  ask  father  what  he  advises 
you  to  do,"  her  mother  counseled.  Then  she 
queried  timidly:  "By  the  way,  dearie,  has 
Ealph  spoken  yet  of  an  engagement  ring?" 

The  girl  frowned.  ' '  Good  heavens,  mother ! ' ' 
she  exclaimed  petulantly,  "do  let  me  get  over 
the  wretchedness  of  one  engagement  before 
you  talk  about  my  being  bound  fast  by  another 
ring.  Besides,  I  don't  want  to  think  about  it 
now — certainly  not  until  I  get  this  hateful  thing 
out  of  the  house." 


In  the  Web  of  Life  299 

That  evening  she  handed  the  ring  to  her  fa- 
ther. "What  shall  I  do  with  it?"  she  asked. 

Mr.  Hale  did  not  reply  at  once,  but  turned  the 
diamond  this  way  and  that,  watching  the  beau- 
tiful stone  flash  in  the  light  from  the  chandelier 
above  him.  He  was  a  connoisseur  in  diamonds 
and  he  appreciated  the  beauty  of  this  one.  He 
felt  a  sudden  pang  almost  like  pity  as  he  re- 
called how  Tom  Morton  had  shown  it  to  him 
and  how  pleased  the  lad  had  seemed  when  the 
older  man  had  expressed  his  admiration  of  his 
selection.  Then,  as  suddenly,  he  remembered 
what  had  happened  since  then  and  his  face  grew 
stern. 

"I  will  wrap  it  up  and  take  it  in  to  Tom's 
office  and  instruct  his  clerk  to  put  it  away  in 
the  safe, ' '  he  said  harshly.  ' '  Nobody  will  know 
what  it  is.  Of  course  you  want  to  get  rid  of 
it.  It  would  have  been  in  better  taste  had  you 
returned  it  the  very  hour  you  broke  your  en- 
gagement. ' ' 

"I  have  never  worn  it  since  then,"  the  girl 
muttered  sullenly. 

"Where's  Ralph  this  evening?"  her  father 
asked,  attributing  her  unhappy  demeanor  to  her 
lover's  absence. 


300  In  the  Web  of  Life 

"A  business  man  from  the  South  is  in  town 
and  could  only  see  him  to-night, ' '  she  explained. 
. ' '  That 's  too  bad, ' '  sympathized  the  parent. 

Edith  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "Oh,  I  don't 
mind  so  much,"  she  said  indifferently.  "I've 
seen  Ealph  so  often  lately  that  we  Ve  both  got- 
ten talked  out.  I  do  wish  there  was  something 
pleasant  or  interesting  to  do  in  this  place! 
Thanks  to  Constance's  behavior,  the  house  is 
like  a  tomb.  She,  at  all  events,  was  fun  to  talk 
to — and  she  could  at  least  amuse  one  by  playing 
the  piano.  You're  depressed,  mother  has  the 
blues,  and  as  for  me — well,  I'm  bored  to  ex- 
tinction ! ' ' 

Her  father  looked  at  her  keenly  and  disap- 
provingly. "I  think,  my  dear,"  he  remarked, 
"when  one  feels  as  you  do  it  is  a  good  plan 
to  do  something  for  somebody  else  or  to  go 
and  see  some  one  who  is  in  real  trouble  or  who 
needs  cheering.  It  would  help  you  to  get  out 
of  your  selfish  thoughts  if  you  did  this.  Why, 
instead  of  moping  around  the  house  as  you  have 
been  doing  for  the  past  few  days,  don 't  you  go 
and  see  some  poor  sick  person — Ralph's  mother, 
for  instance?  You  said  she  was  ill  the  other 
night,  yet  you  haven 't  been  near  her. ' ' 


In  the  Web  of  Life  301 

"She'd  only  talk  about  Ralph  and  about  her 
ailments  all  the  time,"  the  girl  objected.  "But 
I  suppose,  now  that  you  speak  of  it,  it  would 
be  the  decent  thing  to  do.  But  that  will  bore 
me,  too." 

The  petulant  tone  irritated  the  man  and  he 
spoke  testily.  "You're  spoiled  to  death, 
Edith,"  he  declared.  "That's  what  ails  you! 
You're  spoiled  to  death!" 

"If  I  am,"  she  retorted  sharply,  "who's 
fault  is  it,  please?" 

And  before  her  astounded  parent  could  find 
a  reply  to  her  apt  question  she  walked  away, 
leaving  him  staring  blankly  at  the  open  door- 
way through  which  she  had  passed. 

In  spite  of  her  disinclination  to  do  what  she 
termed  "the  decent  thing"  so  far  as  the  mother 
of  her  betrothed  was  concerned,  Edith  Hale 
called  on  Mrs.  Morton  the  day  following  her 
conversation  with  her  father.  Her  reasons  for 
this  action  were  various.  She  did  not  want  to 
put  herself  in  the  position  of  disobeying  a  bit 
of  advice  which  she  knew  her  parent  considered 
equivalent  to  a  command  from  him.  She  had 
nothing  especial  to  do,  and  the  visit  would  while 
away  an  hour  that  hung  heavily  on  her  hands. 


302  In  the  Web  of  Life 

Last,  and  not  least,  Balph  had  uttered  a  faint 
reproach — couched,  to  be  sure,  in  affectionate 
terms — because  she  had  not  yet  called  upon  his 
mother.  Edith  did  not  wish  him  to  suspect  that 
she  was  annoyed  at  his  admission  that  she,  the 
girl  whom  he  loved,  could  be  guilty  of  negli- 
gence— still  she  felt  a  slight  resentment  at  his 
speech  and  wished  to  justify  herself  in  his  eyes. 

Balph  Morton  was  not  a  devoted  son,  but  he 
wanted  his  fiancee  to  feel  such  intense  interest 
in  all  that  pertained  to  him  that  she  would  long 
to  become  intimate  with  his  mother.  His  self- 
love  had  been  slightly  wounded  that  Edith  had 
seemed  content  to  remain  on  the  terms  of  pleas- 
ant but  casual  friendship  that  had  always  ex- 
isted between  Mrs.  James  Morton  and  herself. 

"It  was  not,"  he  reminded  her,  "as  if  mother 
could  come  to  see  you,  darling.  But  she  is,  as 
you  know,  not  strong  enough  to  go  about 
much." 

"But,"  Edith  had  excused  herself,  "she  was 
so  ill  the  other  night  that  I  thought  she  might 
not  be  able  to  see  me  if  I  went  to  her  house. ' ' 

"Oh,"  returned  the  lover  hastily,  "she  has 
quite  recovered  from  that  attack.  As  I  told 
you  then,  she  was  suffering  greatly — that  was 


In  the  Web  of  Life  303 

the  reason  I  had  to  hurry  home  to  her — but 
she  is  quite  well  now.  By  the  way,  do  not  men- 
tion to  her  the  fact  that  I  told  you  of  her  illness. 
She  is  sensitive  about  having  people  know  of 
her  bad  attacks." 

Mrs.  Morton  received  Edith  in  her  pretty 
boudoir. 

"It  is  sweet  of  you  to  come,  my  dear,"  she 
said.  "I  have  been  hoping  to  see  you,  but  I 
suppose  you,  like  other  well,  strong  young  peo- 
ple, are  always  on  the  go.  Although  I  wrote 
to  you  as  soon  as  Ealph  told  me  of  his  rare 
good  fortune,  I  have  wanted  to  look  into  your 
face  and  tell  you  again  how  glad  I  am  that  you 
and  my  boy  have  learned  to  care  for  each 
other." 

"Thank  you!"  Edith  returned.  She  felt 
strangely  shy  in  the  presence  of  this  rather 
sentimental  woman  who  would  some  day  be  her 
mother-in-law,  and  was  at  a  loss  as  to  what  to 
say  next.  But  there  was  no  need  of  her  making 
conversation,  for  Mrs.  Morton — always  a  great 
talker — was  so  glad  to  have  a  sympathetic  lis- 
tener that  she  prattled  on  volubly,  leaving  scant 
opportunity  for  Edith  to  talk  had  she  been  in- 
clined to  do  so. 


304  In  the  Web  of  Life 

As  it  was,  the  girl  was  unusually  silent.  Her 
visit  to  Mrs.  Morton,  although  prescribed  by 
her  father  as  a  remedy  for  her  depression,  was 
not  producing  upon  her  the  effect  he  had  antici- 
pated. The  mother's  stories  of  Ralph's  various 
perfections,  her  account  of  her  own  many  ail- 
ments, instead  of  interesting  her  caller  embar- 
rassed her.  Had  Ralph  really  supposed  that  his 
mother  was  averse  to  speaking  of  her  illness? 
Like  many  another  semi-invalid,  Mrs.  Morton 
described  her  various  symptoms  at  length,  and, 
Edith  thought,  ad  nauseam.  All  at  once  the 
girl's  attention  was  caught  by  a  sentence  that 
startled  her. 

"But,  really,  I  ought  not  to  complain,"  her 
hostess  was  saying,  "for  I  have  not  had  one 
of  my  bad  attacks  for  three  months — not  even  a 
threatening  of  one.  Why," — noting  her  listen- 
er's change  of  expression — "why  do  you  look 
so  surprised?" 

Edith  remembered  Ralph's  warning  only  for 
a  fleeting  instant.  Surely  he  had  been  mistaken 
in  considering  his  mother  sensitive  on  the  sub- 
ject upon  which  she  had  been  discoursing  at 
length. .  Besides  that,  was  not  his  fiancee's 
judgment  as  good  as  his  own? 


In  the  Web  of  Life  305 

"Because/'  the  girl  replied  impulsively,  "I 
thought  that  you  were  ill  only  a  few  nights  ago 
— in  fact  on  the  night  that — that — Tom  had  his 
accident." 

"Oh,  no,  my  dear,  you  are  mistaken,"  the 
invalid  corrected  her.  "I  have  felt  very  well  of 
late — that  is,  very  well  for  me.  Ralph  could 
tell  you  how  often  he  has  congratulated  me  on 
my  improvement.  And,  by  the  way,  speaking 
of  Tom — what  a  shocking  accident  that  was! 
Ralph  told  me  of  it  with  so  much  feeling,  for, 
while  he  cannot  approve  of  Tom's  various  in- 
discretions, yet  he  has  always  been  fond  of  his 
cousin.  The  two  men  are  so  unlike !  Ralph  is 
so  conscientious  and  thoughtful!  Even  when 
he  was  a  little  boy," — etc.,  etc. 

She  was  launched  again  on  one  of  her  lengthy 
and  laudatory  accounts  of  her  son's  virtues. 
Edith  fixed  her  eyes  on  her,  seeming  to  pay 
strict  heed  to  what  she  was  saying.  But  her 
thoughts  were  busy  with  an  idea  that  was  rap- 
idly taking  shape  in  her  mind. 

She  could  not  doubt  Mrs.  Morton's  statement 
with  regard  to  her  improved  health  of  late. 
Then  why  had  Ralph  told  her  that  his  mother 
had  been  ill  on  that  night  on  which  he  had  said 


306  In  the  Web  of  Life 

he  was  summoned  home?  What  had  been  his 
object?  She  longed  to  get  away  and  think  of 
the  matter. 

As  soon  as  she  could  do  so  with  propriety  she 
arose,  saying  that  she  must  go,  as  she  did  not 
want  to  weary  her  hostess  by  making  too  long 
a  visit.  "I  will  come  again  soon,"  she  prom- 
ised. "Do  not  ring  for  the  maid.  I  can  let 
myself  out  of  the  house  without  her  assist- 
ance. ' ' 

On  her  way  toward  the  stairs  she  passed  the 
open  door  of  Ralph's  sanctum.  Seized  with  a 
sudden  curiosity  to  see  where  her  betrothed 
spent  much  of  his  time,  she  stepped  softly  into 
the  room  and  glanced  about  her.  On  the  mantel 
was  the  picture  of  herself  which  she  had  sent 
to  Mrs.  Morton  last  Christmas.  A  smile  of 
gratified  vanity  flitted  across  her  lips  as  she 
appreciate^  that  the  man  who  loved  her  had 
confiscated  this  gift  and  made  it  his.  Going  a 
step  nearer,  her  eye  fell  upon  an  opened  letter 
lying  on  top  of  a  pile  of  magazines  on  the  table 
near  the  window.  Ralph  Morton,  in  changing 
his  papers  this  morning  from  the  pockets  in 
one  suit  to  those  in  another,  had  dropped  this 
letter,  and  the  maid  in  straightening  up  the 


In  the  Web  of  Life  307 

room  after  his  departure  to  the  city  had  picked 
it  up  and  laid  it  on  the  table. 

From  where  Edith  stood  she  could  see  the 
postmark  on  the  envelope.  It  had  been  mailed 
in  Baltimore. 

To  most  daughters  of  Eve  comes  sooner  or 
later  the  temptation  to  read  a  letter  not  meant 
for  their  eyes.  To  many  a  woman  it  is  but  a 
fleeting  wish  to  ascertain  by  a  single  act  that 
which  otherwise  she  may  not  learn  except  by 
awaiting  the  deliberate  sequence  of  events. 

To  the  broad-minded,  honorable  woman  the 
knowledge  that  she  has,  even  for  a  second,  felt 
an  impulse  that  is  unworthy  of  her  better  na- 
ture brings  with  it  a  self-disgust  that  is  so 
much  stronger  than  the  temptation  that  the 
latter  loses  its  power,  and  she  turns  away  from 
it  with  a  silent  prayer  of  thanksgiving  that  she 
has  not  been  permitted  to  do  that  which  until 
now  she  had  believed  herself  incapable  of  doing. 
But  to  her  weaker  sister  the  desire  to  discover 
something  of  which  she  has  been  kept  in  igno- 
rance obliterates  all  scruples. 

Such  a  desire,  coupled  with  suspicion  that 
was  a  thrust  at  her  vanity,  moved  Edith  Hale 
to  pick  up  the  letter  lying  before  her.  The 


308  In  the  Web  of  Life 

large,  flashy  chirography  affected  by  some 
women  of  dashing  personality  stared  out  at 
her  so  suddenly  that  she  took  in  the  whole 
written  message  at  a  glance. 

"Dear,  I  shall  be  in  town  to-morrow.  Meet 
me  for  dinner  at  the  usual  place  at  seven-thirty. 
As  always,  E.  P." 

Edith  dropped  the  letter  in  sudden  agitation 
as  the  suspicions  caused  by  the  Baltimore  post- 
mark on  the  envelope  were  justified  by  the  in- 
itials signed  to  the  communication.  She  recalled 
fhat  these  were  the  letters  affixed  to  the  tele- 
gram that  had  come  for  Ealph  on  the  night  of 
the  engagement  dinner,  also  that  Ealph  had 
told  her  that  the  sender  of  the  dispatch  had  been 
a  Mrs.  Evelyn  Price,  and  that  when  he  had  later 
acknowledged  that  at  one  time  he  had  an  affair 
with  a  woman — an  affair  of  which  he  was 
ashamed — she  had  suspected  that  it  was  with 
this  same  woman — the  woman  with  whom  Tom 
had  some  dishonorable  association.  But  Ealph 
had  broken  with  this  Mrs.  Price.  She  gasped 
as  she  appreciated  that  this  letter  was  proof 
positive  that  he  had  not  done  so.  No  woman 
would  address  any  man  as  this  correspondent 


In  the  Web  of  Life  309 

addressed  Ralph,  taking  for  granted  his  com- 
prehension and  his  acquiescence,  unless  she  was 
on  intimate  terms  with  him.  And  all  this  while 
she,  his  betrothed,  had  been  deceived  by  him, 
had  trusted  him — or  had  tried  to  trust  him. 

Edith  Hale's  hand  did  not  tremble  as  she 
picked  up  the  letter  from  the  floor  and  looked 
at  it  again.  It  bore  the  date  of  May  twenty- 
sixth,  and  to-day  was  the  twenty-eighth.  The 
writer  spoke  of  "to-morrow."  Then  it  had 
been  yesterday — last  night — that  Ralph  was 
to  meet  her  * '  at  the  usual  place. ' '  And  he  had 
told  his  fiancee  that  he  had  a  business  engage*- 
ment  in  town ! 

The  girl  laid  the  letter  just  where  she  had 
found  it  and  went  quietly  down  the  steps  and 
out  of  the  house.  She  had  made  her  plans  be- 
fore she  had  walked  far.  She  would  not  consult 
her  father  until  she  had  done  as  she  pleased  in 
this  matter.  Had  she  ever  loved  this  man,  she 
wondered.  Her  pride  was  hurt,  her  vanity 
cruelly  wounded,  she  was  angry — yet  her  heart 
was  not  sad. 

She  was  in  the  habit  of  looking  at  everything 
from  the  standpoint  of  its  effect  upon  herself 
only.  Her  chief  regret  now  was  that  she  had 


310  In  the  Web  of  Life 

announced  her  engagement.  Yet,  after  all,  she 
had  never  actually  announced  it.  She  had  only 
let  people  congratulate  her.  But — she  caught 
her  breath — if  Balph  could  explain  this  letter, 
if  he  could  convince  her  that  all  this  was  some 
horrible  mistake — would  she  remain  engaged 
to  him? 

She  knew  that  of  late  he  had  bored  her,  that 
Mrs.  Morton  had  seemed  detestably  egotistical 
and  commonplace  this  afternoon,  that  as  she, 
Edith  Hale,  pictured  her  life  with  Ealph  Mor- 
ton and  his  mother,  she  was  oppressed  by  a 
conviction  that  such  an  existence  would  be  flat, 
stale  and  unprofitable. 

The  woman  of  deep  nature  may  not  under- 
stand the  frequent  changes  of  sentiment  to 
which  this  girl  was  subject.  But  it  must  be 
remembered  that  she  had  never  loved  any  man 
as  much  as  she  loved  herself,  her  own  comfort 
and  her  own  pleasures.  Demonstrative  in  her 
expressions  of  affection  when  she  was  indulged, 
resentful  when  thwarted,  happy  in  the  sun- 
shine, unhappy  in  the  shade,  fond  of  being  loved 
and  of  being  amused,  she  was  like  many  another 
American  girl  of  to-day.  There  are  certain 
plants  of  the  spirit  that  need  some  shadow  to 


In  the  Web  of  Life  311 

make  them  grow.  If  the  seeds  of  such  were 
in  Edith  Hale's  nature,  there  had  been  too  much 
uninterrupted  sunshine  in  her  life  to  give  them 
an  opportunity  to  thrive.  She  did  not  love 
Ealph  Morton,  yet  it  was  a  very  genuine  feel- 
ing that  made  her  cheeks  glow  and  her  dark 
eyes  snap  as  she  reached  a  climax  in  her  de- 
cision. 

"I'll  make  him  uncomfortable — I'll  punish 
him  for  this ! ' '  she  muttered. 

"Good  afternoon,  Miss  Hale." 

Edith  awoke  to  consciousness  of  her  sur- 
roundings with  a  start.  Edward  Dayton  stood 
in  front  of  her,  his  hat  in  his  hand  and  an  ad- 
miring smile  on  his  face. 

"You  looked  so  severe  that  I  was  almost 
afraid  to  speak  to  you,"  he  said  laughingly; 
"yet  your  wrath — or  whatever  it  was — was  so 
becoming  to  you  that  I  could  not  bring  myself 
to  the  point  of  allowing  you  to  pass." 

The  girl  laughed.  His  presence  at  this  junc- 
ture seemed  a  wonderfully  happy  coincidence. 

"May  I  walk  as  far  as  your  house  with  you?" 
he  asked,  falling  into  step  beside  her. 

"Of  course  you  may!"  she  replied,  cordially, 
then  chatted  merrily  until  her  home  was 


312  In  the  Web  of  Life 

reached.  Here  she  invited  him  to  come  in,  and, 
excusing  herself  for  a  moment,  sought  her 
mother. 

"Ned  Dayton  is  here,"  she  said  hurriedly. 
" Won't  you  go  down  and  invite  him  to  stay  to 
dinner?" 

"But,"  Mrs.  Hale  hesitated,  "isn't  Ealph 
coming  to  call  this  evening?" 

"No,  he  is  not,"  Edith  returned  abruptly. 
"What's  more,  I  don't  want  him!  There, 
dear" — as  she  saw  her  mother's  expression  of 
dismay — "it's  all  right!  I'm  tired  of  Ralph, 
that 's  all.  Now  run  on  and  invite  Ned  to  stay. ' ' 

Being  a  well-trained  American  mother,  Mrs. 
Hale  went  downstairs  to  carry  out  instructions 
while  Edith  went  to  her  room  to  don  a  bewitch- 
ing dinner  gown.  Yet  she  found  time  before 
dinner  to  call  up  Ealph  Morton.  He  had  just 
reached  home  and  greeted  her  in  an  affectionate 
voice.  But  his  tone  changed  to  one  of  conster- 
nation as  he  received  her  message.  She  would 
prefer  that  he  did  not  call  on  her  this  evening. 

' '  But  I  have  made  all  my  plans  to  come, ' '  he 
protested. 

"And  I,"  she  said  curtly,  "have  made  all 
my  plans  not  to  have  you  come.  Good  night ! ' ' 


Chapter  Twenty-one 

Edward  Dayton  accepted  with  pleased  alac- 
rity Mrs.  Hale's  invitation  to  "stay  to  dinner. " 

"I  was  on  my  way  from  the  city,"  he  ex- 
plained, "when  I  met  Miss  Edith,  so  I  have  not 
dressed  for  the  evening.  But  I  do  want  to 
accept  your  delightful  invitation — so  I  hope  you 
will  pardon  my  business  suit." 

"Indeed  we  will,"  said  his  hostess,  while  her 
husband,  coming  in  at  this  moment,  seconded 
her  cordial  remarks. 

John  Hale  was,  in  truth,  rather  relieved  to 
see  Edward  Dayton,  for,  like  his  daughter,  he 
was  finding  Ralph  Morton's  presence  here  eve- 
ning after  evening  rather  monotonous.  Yet  he 
raised  his  brows  in  perplexed  disapproval  when 
his  wife  informed  him  in  the  privacy  of  his 
dressing  room  that  Edith  was  "not  going  to  let 
Ealph  come  here  to  call  to-night." 

* '  She 's  got  to  stop  playing  fast  and  loose  with 
him,"  the  father  declared.  "She's  either  got 
to  accept  him  permanently  and  definitely  or  let 
him  go  completely." 


314  In  the  Web  of  Life 

To  which  remark  his  wife  deemed  silence  the 
safest  reply. 

Edward  Dayton  had  admired  John  Hale's 
daughter  ever  since  he  first  met  her  on  her  re- 
turn from  Europe  a  year  ago,  but  he  had  not 
allowed  himself  to  analyze  the  sensation  of  keen 
chagrin  with  which  he  learned  of  her  engage- 
ment to  Ralph  Morton.  This  evening,  as  he 
and  Edith  sat  together  after  dinner  in  the  draw- 
ing-room, he  mentioned  her  betrothed  with  the 
assumed  lightness  with  which  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  conceal  any  serious  feeling. 

"I  have  been  expecting  to  see  Morton  enter 
at  any  moment,"  he  said.  "I  am  in  no  hurry 
to  have  him  come — for  when  he  does  I  must  be 
magnanimous  and  do  as  I  would  want  to  be  done 
by  in  similar  circumstances — and  get  out. ' ' 

"Why*"  Edith  asked  gravely. 

Her  companion  laughed  embarrassedly.  "  Be- 
cause," he  replied,  "it  would  be  only  fair. 
When  a  man  is  engaged,  you  know,  he  has  a 
right " 

"Please,"  she  interrupted  in  a  low,  pleading 
tone,  "please  let  me  explain  to  you — as  to  a 
true  friend — that  which  others  do  not  know. 
Ralph  Morton  and  I  are  not  engaged." 


In  the  Web  of  Life  315 

"I  suppose  you  mean,"  the  man  ventured, 
' l  that  you  do  not  call  it  yet  a  regular  engage- 
ment— but  it  is  equivalent  to  one. ' ' 

"It  is  not!"  she  denied  positively.  "I  owe 
you  a  debt  of  gratitude — although  you  may  not 
know  it — so  you  have  a  right  to  the  truth  which 
I  have  confided  to  nobody  else.  Ralph  Morton 
and  I  are  not  engaged — nor  shall  we  ever  be, 
for  the  best  reason  in  the  world — I  do  not  love 
him." 

Edward  Dayton  strove  to  suppress  any  mani- 
festation of  the  unreasonable  sense  of  happi- 
ness that  suddenly  pervaded  his  being.  But  it 
shone  from  his  eyes  as  he  asked : 

"What  do  you  mean  when  you  speak  of  ow- 
ing me  a  debt  of  gratitude,  Miss  Edith?  You 
are  surely  mistaken.  I  have  never  been  so  for- 
tunate as  to  do  anything  that  would  merit  your 
gratitude  or  your  friendship." 

' '  Indeed  you  have, ' '  she  insisted.  Then,  with 
downcast  eyes,  she  told  him  how  she  had  heard 
him  try  to  divert  gossip  from  her  name  on  the 
night  of  the  dinner  party.  "I  can  never  forget 
your  kindness — never!"  she  said. 

Ned  Dayton's  heart  gave  a  throb  of  joy  as 
he  looked  at  the  girl.  After  all,  she  was  free. 


316  In  the  Web  of  Life 

Then  were  not  his  chances  as  good  as  another 
man's!  He  had  money  and  social  position — 
yet  dare  he  aspire  to  the  honor  of  winning  this 
girl's  love?  As  he  remained  silent  she  raised 
her  eyes  to  his. 

"Now  you  know,"  she  said  gently,  "why  I 
feel  I  owe  you  a  debt  of  kindness." 

He  leaned  forward  eagerly.  * '  There  is  some- 
thing I  would  rather  have  than  your  kindness," 
he  said,  "and  that  is  your  friendship,  your 
liking." 

She  flashed  a  radiant  smile  at  him.  "You 
ought  to  know  that  you  have  them  already," 
she  told  him. 

Friendship,  liking — these  might  form  a  pretty 
good  basis  upon  which  to  establish  a  warmer 
feeling.  Perhaps,  after  all,  the  man  told  him- 
self, there  was  hope  even  for  him. 

Edward  Dayton  stayed  so  late  that  Mrs.  Hale 
had  gone  to  her  room  before  he  left.  But  her 
husband  still  sat  in  the  library  reading  when 
he  heard  the  front  door  close  behind  his  daugh- 
ter 's  guest.  Coming  out  into  the  hall  the  father 
put  his  arm  about  the  girl  as  he  kissed  her 
good  night. 

"Darling,"  he  said  warningly,  "that  is  a 


In  the  Web  of  Life  317 

nice  fellow  and  an  honorable  gentleman.  Don't 
flirt  with  him!" 

Edith  returned  his  scrutinizing  gaze  steadily. 
"No,  dad,"  she  replied,  "I  like  him  too  much 
to  flirt  with  him.  But  that  is  just  between  you 
and  me,  please,  dad." 

"And  what  about  Ralph?"  he  asked.  "You 
are  forgetting  him. ' ' 

"I  would  like  to,"  she  rejoined  quickly. 
"And  I  shall  tell  him  so  to-morrow." 

Before  he  could  question  her  further  she 
kissed  him  on  the  cheek  and  ran  up  to  her  room. 
As  John  Hale  locked  the  front  door  and  put  out 
the  lights  he  shook  his  head. 

"Is  she  fickle  or  only  facile?"  he  wondered 
moodily,  * '  and  have  we,  by  indulging  and  hum- 
oring her,  taught  her  to  feel  no  sense  of  respon- 
sibility? Can  it  be  possible,"  frowning  as  a 
gloomy  suggestion  presented  itself,  "that  we 
have  spoiled  our  girl  as  James  Morton 's  widow 
has  spoiled  her  boy?  But  nonsense!"  with  an 
impatient  movement  of  the  shoulders,  as  if  dis- 
lodging a  disagreeable  burden  that  had  been 
placed  there  against  his  will.  "With  a  girl  it 
is  different.  A  girl  can  stand  being  indulged. 
And  when  the  right  man  comes  along  Edith  will 


318  In  the  Web  of  Life 

settle  down.  But  I  have  never  felt  that  Ealph 
was  the  right  man — in  spite  of  some  noble 
qualities. ' ' 

It  was  from  Edith's  own  lips  the  next  after- 
noon that  Ralph  received  his  final  dismissal. 
She  said  nothing  of  the  letter  she  had  read,  but 
she  would  not  listen  to  his  pleading.  Her  eyes 
were  hard  and  she  spoke  with  a  cruelty 
prompted  by  hurt  vanity,  which  is  more  bitter 
than  wounded  love. 

"I  don't  care  for  you,"  she  said  incisively. 
Then  as  he  attempted  a  vehement  and  reproach- 
ful protest,  she  threw  back  her  head  and 
laughed. 

" Can't  you  see,  Ralph,"  she  taunted,  "that 
I  have  been  amusing  myself  all  this  time  I  And 
I'm  tired  of  the  game!" 

What  had  wrought  this  change  ?  he  wondered 
as  he  walked  homeward,  surrounded  by  a  host 
of  dark  thoughts.  As  he  reflected  on  what  she 
might  have  discovered,  or  might  yet  discover, 
he  was  humiliatingly  afraid. 

That  night  he  confided  to  his  mother  a  plan 
which  he  said  had  been  in  his  mind  for  months. 
Did  she  not  feel  that  it  would  do  both  him  and 
her  good  to  get  away  from  Homewood?  Surely 


In  the  Web  of  Life  319 

she  could  afford  to  use  some  of  her  money  to 
take  them  both  out  to  Los  Angeles,  where  Mrs. 
Morton's  only  brother  was  a  prosperous  lawyer. 
Ralph  acknowledged  that  he  had  always  longed 
to  accept  his  uncle's  suggestion,  made  several 
years  ago,  and  go  into  partnership  with  him. 

He  was  playing  his  cards  cleverly,  for  he 
knew  that  the  widow's  desire  ever  since  her 
husband 's  death  had  been  to  return  to  her  Cali- 
fornia home  where  she  had  lived  until  her  mar- 
riage. But  her  son  had  always  rebelled  against 
the  idea. 

"But  what  about  leaving  Edith?"  she  asked 
tremulously  after  she  had  wiped  away  the  tears 
of  happiness  that  had  gushed  forth  at  his  sug- 
gestion. 

"Our  engagement  is  broken,"  he  said  briefly. 
"I  do  not  want  to  talk  of  it,  mother.  I  entered 
rashly  into  it — and  I  find  that  I  do  not  love 
the  girl.  I  acted  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment 
in  asking  her  to  marry  me.  It  was  a  mistaken 
sense  of  chivalry  on  my  part.  She  sees  this 
now.  And,  if  you  love  me,  mother,  say  nothing 
more  to  me  about  it. ' ' 

So  excited  was  the  mother  at  the  prospect  of 
returning  to  her  old  home,  and  at  Ralph's  un- 


320  In  the  Web  of  Life 

selfishness  in  proposing  it,  that  she  suppressed 
any  words  of  regret  at  the  thought  that  Edith's 
money  would  never  be  shared  by  her  beloved 
son. 


Chapter  Twenty-two 

Tom  Morton  was  going  to  get  well. 

His  friends  and  business  associates,  inquir- 
ing in  person  or  by  telephone  at  the  hos- 
pital received  this  information.  Constance  Med- 
ford,  calling  up,  as  had  been  her  daily  custom 
for  a  fortnight,  heard  the  glad  news  with 
quickened  breath  and  fast  beating  heart. 
Ralph  Morton,  learning  the  verdict  from  Tom's 
office  clerk,  whom  he  chanced  to  meet  on  the 
street,  also  felt  his  breath  come  fast,  but  his 
heart  sank  with  a  sickening  dread,  followed  by 
the  resolution  to  "wind  up"  affairs  and  get 
away  as  soon  as  possible.  This  decision 
prompted  him  to  tell  his  mother  a  few  hours 
later  that  he  was  arranging  to  go  West  with 
her  even  earlier  than  first  planned. 

"I  want  to  settle  in  Los  Angeles  before 
Summer  really  comes, ' '  he  explained, ' '  and  you 
will  find  the  trip  beautiful  in  June  when  the 
country  is  in  its  fresh  verdure." 

Once  more  his  mother  rejoiced  in  her  son's 
unselfish  thought  of  her  welfare.  She  mused 
321; 


324  In  the  Web  of  Life 

Then  he  asked  eagerly,  first  of  all,  about 
Constance.  Dr.  Sheffield  had  told  him  that  it 
was  she  who  had  found  him.  How  had  she 
known  that  he  was  hurt?  What  was  she  doing 
out  alone  at  that  time  of  the  night?  Listening 
to  the  questions  of  this  man  who  had  just  re- 
turned from  the  brink  of  the  grave,  John  Hale 
knew  that  he  was  not  deceiving  him,  knew 
with  a  swift  insight  that  he  had  always  been 
the  honorable  gentleman  that  he  had  believed 
him  to  be  before  Ealph  Morton  had  maligned 
him.  So  he  himself  replied  directly,  honestly, 
relating  the  story  of  Constance's  behavior  as 
far  as  he  knew  it,  making  no  excuses  for  his 
own  part  in  it,  only  giving  the  facts.  The 
honesty  of  the  sufferer  drew  from  him  a  sim- 
ilar honesty. 

"I  could  not  understand  the  girl's  action — 
and  I  do  not  understand  it — since  she  had  had 
no  message  from  you  that  you  were  coming. 
Unless ' ' — struck  by  an  illuminating  idea — * '  she 
heard  me  telephone  you." 

"She  may  have  done  so,"  Tom  murmured. 
Then  he  was  silent.  The  other,  watching  him, 
saw  the  lips  take  on  a  moved,  tender  curve — 
the  expression  that  a  man  might  wear  who  ap- 


In  the  Web  of  Life  325 

predated  what  a  good,  pure  woman  had  done 
to  save  him.  As  this  thought  came  to  the  eld- 
erly man  it  was  followed  by  the  swift  mental 
query:  "Save  him  from  what?  Who  or  what 
could  harm  him?  Who  else  knew  that  he  was 
on  the  road  to  Homewood  that  night?  Who 
besides  Martha  and  Edith?" 

And  as  startling  came  the  recollection  that 
Ralph  was  aware  that  the  master  of  the  house 
had  summoned  Tom  that  evening.  For  an  in- 
stant he  was  glad  that  his  companion's  eyes 
were  bandaged,  for  he  felt  the  color  leave  his 
own  face.  At  last  he  broke  the  silence  with  a 
question  to  which  he  tried  to  give  a  casual 
sound. 

"Will  you  tell  me  what  you  remember  of 
your  accident?" 

Tom  spoke  reluctantly.  "Not  very  much," 
he  said.  "I  was  driving  rapidly.  I  saw  the 
light  of  an  automobile  at  the  roadside.  I 
sounded  my  horn.  I  sawT  a  figure  leap  for- 
ward, the  hand  raised  in  the  air,  I  felt  a  flash 
as  of  fire  across  my  eyes — and  all  went  black." 

"Did  you  recognize  the  figure?"  asked  the 
older  man  hoarsely. 

"I  am  not  sure,"  Tom  replied.    "I  would 


324  In  the  Web  of  Life 

Then  he  asked  eagerly,  first  of  all,  about 
Constance.  Dr.  Sheffield  had  told  him  that  it 
was  she  who  had  found  him.  How  had  she 
known  that  he  was  hurt?  What  was  she  doing 
out  alone  at  that  time  of  the  night?  Listening 
to  the  questions  of  this  man  who  had  just  re- 
turned from  the  brink  of  the  grave,  John  Hale 
knew  that  he  was  not  deceiving  him,  knew 
with  a  swift  insight  that  he  had  always  been 
the  honorable  gentleman  that  he  had  believed 
him  to  be  before  Ralph  Morton  had  maligned 
him.  So  he  himself  replied  directly,  honestly, 
relating  the  story  of  Constance's  behavior  as 
far  as  he  knew  it,  making  no  excuses  for  his 
own  part  in  it,  only  giving  the  facts.  The 
honesty  of  the  sufferer  drew  from  him  a  sim- 
ilar honesty. 

"I  could  not  understand  the  girl's  action — 
and  I  do  not  understand  it — since  she  had  had 
no  message  from  you  that  you  were  coming. 
Unless" — struck  by  an  illuminating  idea — ''she 
heard  me  telephone  you." 

"She  may  have  done  so,"  Tom  murmured. 
Then  he  was  silent.  The  other,  watching  him, 
saw  the  lips  take  on  a  moved,  tender  curve — 
the  expression  that  a  man  might  wear  who  ap- 


In  the  Web  of  Life  325 

predated  what  a  good,  pure  woman  had  done 
to  save  him.  As  this  thought  came  to  the  eld- 
erly man  it  was  followed  by  the  swift  mental 
query:  "Save  him  from  what?  Who  or  what 
could  harm  him?  Who  else  knew  that  he  was 
on  the  road  to  Honiewood  that  night?  Who 
besides  Martha  and  Edith?" 

And  as  startling  came  the  recollection  that 
Ralph  was  aware  that  the  master  of  the  house 
had  summoned  Tom  that  evening.  For  an  in- 
stant he  was  glad  that  his  companion's  eyes 
were  bandaged,  for  he  felt  the  color  leave  his 
own  face.  At  last  he  broke  the  silence  with  a 
question  to  which  he  tried  to  give  a  casual 
Bound. 

"Will  you  tell  me  what  you  remember  of 
your  accident?" 

Tom  spoke  reluctantly.  "Not  very  much," 
ho  said.  "I  was  driving  rapidly.  I  saw  the 
light  of  an  automobile  at  the  roadside.  I 
sounded  my  horn.  I  saw  a  figure  leap  for- 
ward, the  hand  raised  in  the  air,  I  felt  a  flash 
as  of  fire  across  my  eyes — and  all  went  black." 

"Did  you  recognize  the  figure?"  asked  the 
older  man  hoarsely. 

"I  am  not  sure,"  Tom  replied.    "I  would 


326  In  the  Web  of  Life 

rather  not  think  of  it.  It  is  done  now.  I  do 
not — I  do  not — feel  about  some  things  as  I 
would  have  felt  once."  He  tried  to  smile. 
"I've  had  lots  of  time  to  think  since  I  came 
here — and  I  see  some  things  in  a  clearer  light 
than  I  used  to.  What  good  would  it  do  to  in- 
vestigate my  accident?  None  at  all!" 

"But  there  is  one  thing  more  you  must  tell 
me,"  insisted  John  Hale.  "I  promise  not  to 
use  it.  What  did  the  figure  hold  in  its  upraised 
hand?" 

"I  did  not  see,"  replied  Tom.  "But  I  did 
not  send  for  you  to  talk  about  myself,  but  to 
ask  you  about  Miss  Medford.  Where  is  she?" 

The  nurse  found  her  patient  strangely  ex- 
cited when  she  returned  to  him  after  his  call- 
er's departure. 

"I  must  get  well,"  he  told  her  feverishly. 
"Everything  depends  upon  it." 

"Oh,  no,"  she  soothed,  her  fingers  on  his 
pulse.  "Not  everything." 

1 '  Yes — everything ! "  he  insisted.  And  as  she 
did  not  want  to  excite  him  further  she  did  not 
contradict  him. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  327 

"You  must  try  to  keep  calm  and  patient  if 
you  would  be  well  soon,"  she  warned  him. 

He  started  to  speak  impetuously,  then 
thought  better  of  it. 

"I  will  try,"  he  promised,  meekly. 


Chapter  Twenty-three 

"Edith,"  John  Hale  said  at  dinner  on  the 
evening  after  his  interview  with  Tom  Morton, 
"I  want  to  talk  with  you  in  the  library  when 
Ned  Dayton  goes  away.  For, ' '  with  a  quizzical 
smile,  "I  suppose  he  is  coming  to-night,  as 
usual?" 

"Yes,  I  think  he  is,"  the  girl  stammered, 
blushing.  ' '  You  don 't  mind,  do  you  I ' ' 

"Oh,  no,"  her  father  replied.  "I  suppose 
there  must  always  be  some  one  who  is  atten- 
tive to  you.  I  should  think  you  would  get 
weary  of  it  after  a  while. ' ' 

Which  speech  showed  that  he  did  not  under- 
stand his  daughter.  However,  Edith  only 
laughed  and  blushed  again. 

' '  I  did  get  tired  of  the  others, ' '  she  acknowl- 
edged, "but  I  don't  of  Ned." 

"That  is — not  yet,"  her  father  rejoined 
dryly. 

It  was  not  of  Edward  Dayton  that  he  spoke 
when  she  joined  him  in  the  library  later  in  the 
evening.  John  Hale  had  intimated  to  his  wife 

328 


In  the  Web  of  Life  329 

that  he  would  like  to  see  his  daughter  alone, 
and  the  mother,  thinking  that  he  wanted  to 
question  Edith  about  her  latest  love  affair, 
withdrew  with  some  trepidation  and  many 
hopes  that  he  would  let  "the  poor  child"  fol- 
low the  dictates  of  her  heart.  "For  she  did 
not  love  either  Tom  or  Balph,"  the  matron 
reflected  as  she  made  ready  for  bed.  "And  if 
Ned  is  the  man  she  does  love — why  not  let  her 
have  her  own  way?" 

The  pair  downstairs  were  not  talking  of 
love.  Seriously  and  dispassionately,  John 
Hale  explained  to  Edith  his  reasons  for  think- 
ing that  Constance  had  held  no  communication 
with  Tom  Morton  except  in  reply  to  his  tele- 
gram, the  contents  of  which  Tom  himself  had 
told  him  this  afternoon.  Tom  had  also  re- 
peated to  Mr.  Hale,  as  nearly  as  he  could  re- 
member it,  Constance's  reply  to  the  telegram. 
Edith  was  much  interested.  Although  the  de- 
tails brought  back  to  her  distinctly  her  two  for- 
mer love  episodes,  she  did  not  seem  embar- 
rassed by  the  recollection.  She  would  have 
said  that  she  was  not  foolishly  sensitive  in  such 
matters— a  statement  which  no  one  who  knew 
her  could  deny. 


330  In  the  Web  of  Life 

Nor,  now  that  it  was  all  over,  did  she  cherish 
any  animosity  against  Constance,  but  was  quite 
ready  to  believe  that  Ralph  had  exaggerated  in 
saying  that  her  cousin  was  untrustworthy. 

"I  know  very  well  that  he  can  lie  when  it 
suits  him!"  she  informed  her  father,  showing 
heated  resentment  for  the  only  time  during 
the  conversation.  For  a  fleeting  instant  she 
remembered  Ralph's  treachery  to  her,  and  the 
sore  spot  in  her  vanity  was  touched  by  the 
recollection. 

1  *  How  do  you  know  f ' '  her  father  questioned. 

"I  would  rather  not  tell  you,  dad,"  she  said. 
"When  a  thing  is  disagreeable  I  try  to  forget 
it  as  soon  as  possible." 

Her  father  looked  at  her  thoughtfully,  ap- 
preciating that  she  had  uttered  a  pregnant 
truth  about  her  own  character.  She  would  not 
think  of  painful  matters,  nor  would  she  do 
anything  that  would  bring  her  discomfort.  The 
parent  chided  himself  for  thinking  of  the 
proverb  "Light  come,  light  go,"  in  connection 
with  his  daughter.  She  was  but  a  child — yet 
how  lightly  children  could  play  with  hearts! 
He  turned  his  thoughts  quickly  into  a  different 
channel. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  331 

"  There  are  one  or  two  other  things  I  want 
to  ask  you,  little  girl,"  he  observed.  "Try  to 
tell  me  all  that  Ralph  said  when  he  stopped  to 
see  you  on  his  way  home  on  the  night  of  Tom's 
accident. ' ' 

She  told  him  all  that  she  could  remember, 
but  it  threw  no  light  on  the  problem  that  was 
puzzling  him. 

"He  was  alone,  wasn't  he?"  the  father  asked. 

"Oh,  yes — entirely  alone.  And  he  stopped 
for  only  a  minute  or  so." 

"Did  he  have  any  parcels — or  anything  in 
his  runabout  that  would  have  shown  where  he 
had  been?" 

"No,"  Edith  replied,  "but  he  said  he  had 
been  to  the  drug  store.  I  did  not  look  for  any 
parcels — though  he  may  have  had  some  in  his 
car.  But  there  was  nothing  there — I  think" — 
she  stopped,  frowning,  trying  to  recall  an  elu- 
sive memory— "except— Oh,  yes,  I  remember 
now,  for  it  seemed  such  a  funny  thing  to  carry 
in  an  automobile!  I  saw  a  tassel  sticking  out 
so  I  looked  to  see  what  it  was  on,  and  I  saw 
it  was  a  long,  curled-up  horsewhip." 

"Ah!" 

The  ejaculation  was  so  sudden  and  vehement 


332  In  the  Web  of  Life 

that  the  girl  started  violently.  "Why,  dad," 
she  exclaimed,  "What's  the  matter?" 

"Nothing,"  he  said,  quickly.  "Nothing  at 
all.  That's  enough  now,  dear.  Eun  away  to 
bed." 

Left  alone,  John  Hale  sat  long,  thinking  out 
the  chain  of  evidence  that  seemed  to  have  been 
laid  ready  to  his  hand.  At  the  end  of  an  hour 
he  sighed  impatiently. 

"And  I  can't  use  it!"  he  regretted.  "Tom 
made  me  promise  not  to  talk  to  anybody  about 
his  affairs.  If  I  tell  him  the  facts  which  I  have 
learned,  or  which  I  suspect,  he'll  do  nothing 
about  it.  Perhaps ' ' — with  a  sudden  inspiration 
— "he  knows  or  suspects  it  already." 

Many  surprising  suggestions  had  come  to 
this  elderly  man  during  the  past  few  hours,  and 
another  one  presented  itself  at  this  moment. 

"I  wonder,"  he  exclaimed  as  the  vivid  idea 
took  form  before  his  mental  vision,  "I  wonder 
if  that's  why  Ralph  took  his  mother  away — 
because  Tom  is  getting  well  and  the  scoundrel 
is  afraid  of  him!  Well,  Ralph's  fooled  us  all, 
and  now  he's  gone!  Even  if  he  had  stayed 
we  couldn't  punish  him  without  hurting  his 
mother.  That's  always  the  way  with  the  ras- 


In  the  Web  of  Life  333 

cals  in  this  world — there's  always  a  mother,  or 
wife,  or  some  other  innocent  person  who'll  be 
worse  hurt  than  the  guilty  ones  if  they  get 
what  they  deserve!" 

He  was  silent  for  a  while.  Then  he  sighed 
again  and  rose  to  his  feet. 

"And  poor  old  Tom  has  had  it  all  to  bear 
alone,  and  there's  nothing  I  can  do  for  him. 
But  yes,  there  is  too — I  can  find  Constance! 
At  least  I  can  try.  And  if  I'm  not  mistaken 
that's  the  biggest  kindness  I  could  do  for  him. 
For,  if  I  know  the  signs  on  a  man's  face,  and 
I  think  I  do,  Tom  loves  Constance.  I  had 
hoped  that  Edith  would  take  him,  and  I  know 
he  thought  he  loved  her;  yet" — with  a  shake 
of  his  head — "he  never  had  the  look  about  his 
mouth  when  he  spoke  of  Edith  that  he  had 
when  he  talked  to  me  of  Constance  to-day ! ' ' 


Chapter  Twenty-four 

On  a  warm  afternoon  in  mid-July  Mrs.  Blair 
was  riding  uptown  in  a  Lexington  Avenue  car. 
She  had  been  shopping  and  was  tired.  More- 
over, as  the  lines  of  her  face  showed,  she  was 
vaguely  anxious.  Constance  was  not  well.  The 
heat  was  telling  on  her,  her  former  governess 
thought.  It  was  so  late  in  the  season  that  she 
had  secured  only  a  few  pupils,  and  those  were 
not  of  the  class  who  can  afford  high-priced  les- 
sons. 

The  girl  insisted  on  paying  board  in  spite 
of  her  hostess's  protestations,  indeed  had  at 
last  silenced  further  argument  on  the  subject 
by  declaring  that  if  she  were  not  allowed  to 
pay  for  her  food  and  room  she  would  have  to 
seek  other  and  less  desirable  quarters. 

So  Mrs.  Blair  had  held  her  peace  and  had 
done  all  within  her  power  to  make  the  child  of 
her  old  school-fellow  comfortable.  Her  efforts 
had  been  appreciated  gratefully,  and  Constance 
had  again  and  again  thanked  her  for  her  good- 
ness. The  orphan  never  complained,  yet  she 

334 


In  the  Web  of  Life  335 

had  lost  flesh  and  color.  If  Mrs.  Blair  had  not 
promised  not  to  betray  her  charge's  secret,  she 
would  have  been  been  tempted  to  confide  her 
anxiety  to  Constance's  relatives.  Yet  Con- 
stance insisted  that  she  was  "perfectly  well." 

The  frown  of  perplexity  deepened  upon  the 
widow's  forehead.  Becoming  aware  of  this 
fact  she  smoothed  the  furrow  from  between  her 
brows  and  glanced  across  the  aisle  at  the  man 
opposite  her.  She  started  slightly  when  she 
found  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her,  and  she  bowed 
as  he  raised  his  hat.  She  fancied  that  his  face 
wore  an  inquiring  look,  as  if  he  were  cudgeling 
his  brains  to  recall  where  he  had  met  her  and 
whether  or  not  he  really  knew  her. 

She  was  correct  in  her  surmise,  for  John 
Hale  was  trying  to  remember  the  name  and 
circumstances  that  went  with  that  face.  Then 
all  at  once  he  knew.  He  thought  of  Constance's 
mother.  This  was  her  old  friend,  the  governess 
of  little  Constance,  the  woman  whom  he  had 
seen  years  ago  in  the  Medford  home.  Con- 
stance had  often  spoken  of  her  affectionately. 
Might  not  the  girl  be  in  touch  with  this  inti- 
mate of  years  gone  by?  He  crossed  the  aisle 
and  took  the  vacant  seat  beside  this  new-found 


336  In  the  Web  of  Life 

acquaintance,  lifting  his  hat  again  as  he  did 
so. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  courteously, 
"but  am  I  mistaken  in  thinking  this  is  Mrs. 
Blair  ?  I  am  John  Hale. ' ' 

To  the  widow  the  encounter  seemed  almost 
like  an  answer  to  her  unspoken  prayer.  But 
her  momentary  delight  was  quickly  replaced  by 
the  harrowing  thought  that  she  had  no  right 
to  betray  to  John  Hale  the  whereabouts  of  his 
niece,  nor  under  what  name  she  was  living  at 
present.  Yet  as  she  listened  to  what  the  eld- 
erly man  had  to  say,  as  she  heard  him  acknowl- 
edge that  there  had  been  a  sad  misunderstand- 
ing in  the  family,  a  misunderstanding  which  he 
regretted  deeply  and  for  which  he  was  willing 
and  eager  to  make  amends,  Mrs.  Blair  was 
sorry  for  him.  When  she  reached  the  corner 
of  the  street  on  which  she  lived,  and  left  the 
car,  he  got  out,  too,  walking  with  her  as  far 
as  her  destination.  At  the  door  of  the  apart- 
ment house  she  stopped,  for  she  feared  that 
Constance  might  even  now  be  at  home.  She 
flattered  herself  that  she  had  not  intimated  to 
this  man  that  his  niece  was  living  with  her. 


In  the  Web  of  Life  337 

Yet,  surely,  there  could  be  no  harm  in  deliver- 
ing to  the  girl  a  message  from  her  uncle. 

"Tell  Constance,"  Mr.  Hale  was  saying, 
"that  we  all  made  a  horrible  mistake,  that  we 
are  all  sorry,  that  we  need  her  back  with  us." 
He ' hesitated.  "You  might  tell  her,  too,"  he 
added,  "that  I  am  going  to  write  to  her  in  your 
care,  trusting  you  to  forward  the  letter  to  her. 
That  will  be  better  than  for  me  to  burden  your 
mind  with  many  messages." 

"He  looked  so  sad  that  I  wanted  to  cry," 
Mrs.  Blair  told  Constance  that  afternoon  when 
the  girl  came  home  weary,  after  a  long  walk 
from  the  house  of  one  of  her  pupils  on  the  west 
side  of  the  city.  Carfare  was  not  over-plenti- 
ful just  now.  Besides,  Constance  insisted,  the 
exercise  was  good  for  her. 

She  was  silent  for  some  time  after  she  had 
heard  the  story  of  her  companion's  encounter 
with  John  Hale.  The  shrill  screams  of  the  chil- 
dren playing  on  the  sidewalk  came  up  to  her 
ears — for  Mrs.  Blair's  apartment  was  not  in  a 
fashionable  part  of  the  city,  although  the  street 
was  respectable.  Somehow  to-day  the  young- 
sters seemed  noisier  than  usual  and  the  clang 
of  the  bells  of  the  Lexington  avenue  cars  more 


338  In  the  Web  of  Life 

frequent  and  insistent  than  ever  before.  Con- 
stance was  depressed  and  discouraged.  She 
was  ashamed  to  go  back  to  her  uncle — she 
would  not  go  back  there  an  avowed  failure !  She 
would  try  not  to  think  of  the  matter  until  she 
heard  from  him  again. 

Yet  she  thought  of  little  else  all  that  night 
and  the  next  day.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon 
when  a  thick  envelope  came  to  Mrs.  Blair.  The 
widow  opened  it  and  drew  out  an  inner  envel- 
ope addressed  to  "Miss  Medford;  Kindness  of 
Mrs.  Blair."  Suddenly  recollecting  that  there 
was  "something"  she  wished  to  speak  to  her 
maid  about,  Mrs.  Blair  slipped  from  the  room. 
So  Constance  was  alone  when  she  read  her 
letter. 

In  spite  of  some  faults,  John  Hale  was  every 
inch  a  man,  and  this  fact  was  evident  in  his  let- 
ter. He  began  by  asking  his  niece's  pardon 
for  his  "unwarranted  impetuosity  and  inexcus- 
able suspicions. ' '  He  begged  her  to  let  him  see 
her.  He  told  her  that  her  aunt  longed  for  her ; 
that  Edith  often  wished  for  her. 

"The  child  will  write  to  you  herself  to  tell 
you  of  her  engagement  to  Edward  Dayton, — for 
that  is  her  latest  and,  I  really  think,  her  last 


In  the  Web  of  Life  339 

love  affair,"  he  wrote.  "Ralph  Morton  and  his 
mother  have  gone  west  to  live.  My  little  girl 
discovered  her  mistake  in  accepting  Ealph  and 
broke  with  him.  I  never  asked  her  why.  I 
think  she  does  love  Ned.  He  must  go  to  Europe 
on  a  business  trip  in  September  and  has  asked 
to  have  the  marriage  take  place  before  then,  so 
that  Edith  may  go  with  him.  'I  would  rather 
not  leave  her  behind,'  he  told  me.  And,  al- 
though he  is  very  much  in  love,  I  fancied  there 
was  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  as  he  said  it.  And, 
although  I  am  the  precious  girl's  father,  I 
could  not  repress  a  smile  as  I  told  him  I  con- 
sidered this  decision  wise. 

"But  all  this  is  beside  the  question.  We  will 
soon  be  alone — we  two  old  people.  And  we 
wrant  you.  If  you  will  not  forgive  us  enough  to 
come  back  to  live  with  us,  at  least  say  that  you 
will  come  to  see  us." 

Edith's  note  was  affectionate,  biit  flippant. 

"I  am  sorry  I  was  cross,  Connie,"  she  wrote. 
"Do  let  me  see  you  soon.  For  I  am  going  to 
be  married  the  first  of  September  to  Ned  Day- 
ton and  I  want  to  tell  you  all  about  it.  He  is 
such  a  dear!" 

Kind  and  conciliatory  as  the  letters  were, 


34-O  In  the  Web  of  Life 

and  much  as  Constance  was  touched  by  them, 
she  let  them  fall  to  the  floor  with  a  sharp  pang 
of  disappointment.  They  did  not  contain  a 
word  about  Tom  Morton. 

She  knew  that  he  had  left  the  hospital.  But 
that  was  all.  She  did  not  dare  telephone  to 
his  office  for  fear  she  might  hear  the  voice  she 
longed  yet  dreaded  to  hear.  Nor  would  she  call 
up  his  apartment  for  the  same  reason.  She 
reminded  herself  often  that  he  might  be  here 
in  New  York,  and  as  she  realized  that,  were  this 
true,  she  might  stand  in  his  presence  in  an 
hour's  time  if  she  wished  to,  the  blood  would 
rush  to  her  cheeks.  Then  would  follow  the 
swift  remembrance  that  he  might  be  far  away, 
might  have  started  out  upon  a  long  journey  to 
regain  strength  after  his  illness.  And  with  this 
thought  New  York  seemed  a  very  empty,  deso- 
late place. 

Ever  since  she  had  learned  from  the  hospital 
that  the  injured  man  had  been  discharged — 
"weak  but  cured,"  the  attendant  said — she  had 
been  pursued  by  the  desire  to  see  him,  coupled 
with  the  fear  of  meeting  him.  For  how  could 
she  face  him  if  he  suspected  the  part  she  had 
taken  in  all  the  happenings  that  had  come  so 


In  the  Web   of  Life  341 

close  to  tragedy?  Now  that  she  had  read  the 
news  contained  in  her  uncle's  letter,  she  wanted 
to  know  more.  Why  had  Ealph  Morton  gone 
away?  Had  he  been  suspected?  At  times  she 
told  herself  that  the  catastrophe  which  had  so 
nearly  cost  Tom  his  life  might,  after  all,  have 
been  only  an  accident;  that  Ealph  had  not, 
perhaps,  been  near  that  part  of  the  road  when 
the  car  had  skidded  and  crashed  down  into  the 
stream.  But  she  knew  in  her  heart  of  hearts 
that  Ealph  had  been  guilty — if  not  in  deed, 
then  in  desire. 

So  overwrought  was  she  this  evening  that 
she  could  not  reply  to  her  uncle's  letter.  She 
wanted  to  *  *  think  it  over, ' '  she  told  Mrs.  Blair. 
The  next  day  she  sent  John  Hale  a  brief  note, 
accompanying  it  with  no  hint  as  to  her  address, 
thanking  him  for  his  kind  appreciation  of  her 
affection,  asking  him  to  try  to  forgive  her  for 
having  made  him  and  her  aunt  unhappy,  but 
saying  that  she  felt  she  ought  to  think  long 
and  seriously  before  changing  her  present  mode 
of  life.  She  sent  her  love  to  her  aunt,  and  en- 
closed a  little  note  to  Edith,  congratulating  her 
on  her  engagement  and  wishing  her  all  happi- 
ness. 


342  In  the  Web  of  Life 

For  some  days  she  received  no  reply  to  this 
communication,  nor  did  she  write  again.  Then 
another  letter  came  from  her  uncle,  urging  her 
to  set  aside  pride  and  wounded  feeling  and 
grant  an  interview  to  ' '  the  man  who  loved  her 
best." 

1 '  Pardon  me,  my  dear, ' '  he  wrote,  "  if  an  old 
man  makes  this  plea  very  strong.  But  as  I  am 
an  old  man,  will  you  not  grant  it?  Will  you  not 
tell  me  where  you  can  be  seen  for  just  a  few  min- 
utes f  Your  aunt  and  I  beg  this  of  you.  Is  it  not 
very  little  to  ask  you  to  grant  for  love's  sake?" 

It  was  hardly  fair,  the  girl  mused,  for  him  to 
put  it  in  this  way.  Still,  what  he  said  was  true. 
It  was  very  little  for  her  to  grant  to  her  only 
relatives  and  for  the  sake  of  their  love.  It  was 
also  very  painfully  true  that  her  uncle  was  the 
"man  who  loved  her  best" — in  fact,  the  only 
man  who  loved  her  at  all.  She  smiled  sadly  as 
she  thought  how  straight  home  he  had  driven 
the  truth,  and  how  it  had  stabbed  her. 

"But  he  did  not  know  it  would  hurt,"  she 
whispered.  "And  he  has  not  told  me  a  word 
about  Tom!  Dear  Heavens — if  I  only  knew! 
But  I  can't  ask!" 

She  wrote  her  uncle  a  little  note,  going  out  to 


In  the  Web  of  Life  343 

the  corner  herself  to  mail  it.  She  would  see  him 
to-morrow  afternoon  at  Mrs.  Blair's.  The 
widow  had  told  her  that  she,  herself,  would  be 
out  all  day  to-morrow.  So  Constance  and  her 
uncle  would  not  be  disturbed  in  their  conversa- 
tion. 

She  did  not  acknowledge  even  to  herself  that 
she  thought  less  of  seeing  her  uncle  than  of 
hearing,  perhaps,  from  his  lips  some  news  of 
the  man  who  was  never  absent  from  her 
thoughts.  Yet  she  knew  that  she  could 
not  bring  herself  to  allude  to  him.  If  Tom 
had  never  cared  for  her  it  would  be  dif- 
ferent. 

As  it  was — she  flushed  with  shame  as  she 
thought  how  he — how  they  all — would  despise 
her  if  they  knew  that  she  had  given  him  her 
love  unsought. 

She  was  alone  the  following  afternoon  when 
a  ring  at  the  front  door  told  her  that  her  uncle 
had  come.  She  was  so  nervous  that  she  rose 
from  her  seat  and  went  to  the  window  and 
stood  looking  out,  yet  seeing  nothing,  as  she 
heard  the  maid  answer  the  bell.  Her  heart 
beat  violently  as  she  remembered  that  in  her 
wild  talk  on  the  last  night  she  was  with  her 


344  I*1  *he  Web  of  Life 

uncle  she  might  have  exposed  her  love  for  the 
man  whom  she  had  tried  to  save. 

She  turned,  yet  did  not  raise  her  eyes,  as  the 
door  of  the  drawing  room  opened  and  closed 
and  the  newcomer  took  a  step  toward  her. 
Then  she  forced  herself  to  look  up,  and,  as  she 
did  so,  she  drew  back  with  a  gasp,  covering  her 
face  with  her  hands. 

But  a  pair  of  hands  stronger  than  hers 
grasped  her  wrists. 

* '  Constance !  Look  at  me ! "  a  rich  voice  com- 
manded. 

She  obeyed,  looking  into  the  deep  blue  eyes 
that  held  her  gaze.  And  as  she  looked  she  saw 
such  a  glow  of  love  that  for  a  moment  she  could 
not  turn  away. 

"You!"  she  whispered,  "youl" 

"Who  should  it  be!"  asked  Tom  Morton, 
tenderly. 

"But  my  uncle "  she  faltered. 

"Your  uncle  begged  you  to  see  the  man  who 
loved  you  best  in  all  the  world,"  Tom  mur- 
mured. "Here  he  is,  Constance.  Can  you 
doubt  it,  my  darling!" 

No  other  hour  slips  by  as  quickly  as  does 


In  the  Web  of  Life  345 

the  hour  when  two  people  first  acknowledge 
their  love  for  each  other.  There  is  so  much  to 
be  told,  so  many  questions — that  the  world 
would  call  foolish — to  be  asked;  so  many  an- 
swers— too  beautiful  for  the  world  to  under- 
stand— to  be  given. 

' '  The  life  you  saved  is  a  poor  thing  at  best, ' ' 
Tom  said  at  last,  "but  your  acceptance  of  it 
makes  it  gloriously  worth  while." 

Constance  laid  a  gentle  finger  on  the  scar 
just  below  his  eyes. 

"It's  pretty  ugly,  I'm  afraid,"  Tom  said 
quickly,  "but  it  will  get  fainter  after  a  while. 
You  don't  mind  it  very  much,  do  you,  darling?" 

She  smiled  happily.  "Mind!"  she  echoed. 
"Mind!  No!  Perhaps,  after  all— I  rather  like 
it,  as  it  calls  my  attention  to  the  eyes  above 
it.  For  when  I  look  at  them — there  shines 
out " 

She  paused.  "What?"  urged  the  man. 
"Tell  me,  dear!" 

"There  shines  out,"  she  said  softly,  her  own 
eyes  overflowing  with  love,  "  'the  light  that 
never  was  on  sea  or  land!'  " 

THE  END 


UC  SOUTHERN  RE 


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